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

  ‘Find’ because they might have gotten back on their jet skis and hauled ass—or because they might be floating off course. The sea was a fickle bitch like that. Sure, it was harder to lose a boat or something in open waters, but once people went in, it was pretty easy for them to get pulled under.

  Sirena had pushed herself up against the side of the boat, hugging one knee. It pulled the fabric tight against her, fitting to her curves. She seemed small, sitting there, and it looked to be too painful to pull the other leg. Her blue eyes were wide, brows pushed together, staring at them uncertainly.

  “No worries, Sirena,” he said since he still didn’t know her name. “They are friendlies.”

  “You’ve got red on you,” Hunter said in his thick southern drawl.

  He looked down at his arm, frowning at the thin red line trailing down his brown skin. “Yeah. Fleshy is all. No need to worry.”

  “Get back to the Nest,” Cap said. “Ida called the medics and the cops.”

  “What?!” The woman stood on shaky legs. “No! You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Miguel raised an eyebrow to her. The likelihood that those bogies were after her kept rising. Not that it wasn’t the first assumption, but the guys at The Crow's Nest tended to tango with the wrong crowd from time to time. They may have enemies they didn’t even know about yet. They tried to keep their heads down, but sometimes, it was just inevitable. Considering her skittish nature and the origin of her story, Miguel thought the sexy siren from the middle of the ocean had brought a bunch of sharks along with her.

  “Sirena, you need medical attention. That is just the way it is.”

  “You two figure it out,” Hunter said. “Longer we sit here chattin’ like teenagers, the farther away them bogies are gonna get.”

  Without waiting for a response, Hunter took off. Miguel sighed. Damn cowboy was so hotheaded, though he’d been getting help for that the last few months. Ever since Sin had come into his life. The woman had an effect on Hunter—a good one for the most part. Miguel knew what it was like to think help wasn’t needed, but in reality, he’d been hanging on by a thread. So had Hunter. They had both gotten help in their own way.

  Sirena was the one who needed help now, whether she realized it or not.

  “Please.” She gripped his arm in desperation, but there was no strength behind her hold. “You don’t understand. The cops won’t be able to help.”

  His protective streak surged even more. Whatever trouble she was in, it was bad if she thought the police couldn’t help.

  Miguel was already heading for the shoreline, the familiar replica lookout tower—complete with a statue of a pirate watching over the Atlantic—was his beacon. As far as the majority of the population knew, The Crow’s Nest Marina was just that. They rented slips to boat owners, fixed anything that came on their dock, and made sure the place ran smooth as a naval vessel—Cap being Navy made sure of that. What most people didn’t know though, was that they often helped people that the police couldn’t. Like Sin. She’d had a murderous stalker on her ass that wanted to taxidermy and make her the center of a flesh art show.

  Even outside of war, people were fucked up.

  Miguel picked up the radio. “Ida. Can you check if the Doc is available?”

  “Standby,” she said.

  The Doc was who they called when any member of the Nest was in bad shape but couldn’t go to the hospital—plus she was the best doctor they knew. Calling her in for a civie pretty much went against protocol, but right now, he didn’t know who was after Sirena. All he knew was he wanted to keep her safe.

  Ida came on a moment later. “That’s a negative, Miguel. She’s been out of town and won’t be back till tonight.”

  Fuck!

  That meant the hospital, even if the mermaid didn’t want to go.

  “Listen, Sirena,” he kept one on hand on the wheel and wrapped the other around her shivering shoulders.

  She tensed for a brief moment and then took a step closer, pressing her body against his.

  “You are safe.” He looked over, holding her gaze. “Whoever those guys were, they’re not going to hurt you, okay? Not while I’m around.”

  He meant it. Didn’t matter who they were or why they wanted her. Seeing as how they shot without provocation, he highly doubted that they were the good guys. Hell, even if they were, with the blond beauty huddled up close to him, fitting perfectly against his side, Miguel wasn't sure it would have mattered.

  Just as they approached the docks, the woman who still hadn’t given her his name, went pale, and collapsed against him. It made him jerk the boat against the wood. He winced, glad for the bumpers—not that Cordelia was in any shape to go home any time soon as it was, but the poor girl didn’t need any more battle wounds.

  Keeping Sirena against him, her head hanging back, Miguel steadied the boat as best he could. Cordelia had gotten them out of a bad bind, but he needed to worry about the woman in his arms.

  Jax, the newest and youngest member of the Nest waited for them on the slip. Still holding on to the woman, Miguel grabbed the anchor rope and tossed it to him. Jax caught it easy enough and pulled them in before tying them off.

  “She all right?” he asked.

  A year ago, at twenty-four, Jax found himself with an honorable discharge after getting riddled with shrapnel. Some of the pink scars stood out against his dark skin, but he never bothered to hide them. Miguel didn’t put his own on display. It’s why he generally had a shirt on—at least a tank top. Not that he was embarrassed by them, but he wanted people to look at him in a good way, not with pity.

  “I think she will be,” Miguel said.

  He scooped her up in his arms, despite the surge of pain, and handed her off to Jax for a moment till he got out of the boat. Then he took her back, walking toward the approaching sirens and a very pissed off Ida.

  Chapter Three

  Cassidy jerked awake with a start, trying to lift her arms. Something pulled against her wrists, and her arms fell back on the bed. Panic set in as she realized she’d been restrained. Aside from the wrist cuffs, there was a strap over her feet, making her unable to move. Pain shot through her thigh and she hissed, shoving her head back into the pillow. The heart monitor beeped faster, the spikes jumping and falling across the screen. When she’d passed out on the boat, Miguel must have made them take her to the hospital anyway. Jane Doe—that’s who she should be. Except the bracelet on her wrist had her name clearly typed out.

  Cassidy Fletcher.

  Along with her date of birth and other personal information.

  No! No! No!

  They had found out so fast. It usually took weeks to get a response through the system—days at least. It’d only be her luck that figured it out in hours. A jolt of adrenaline went through her. It might not have been hours. It could have been a day or days. Cassidy had no way of knowing how long she’d been out without something to give her the date.

  She tugged at the restraints, trying to stay calm, but the stupid heart monitor beeped louder and faster, giving away her anxiety. Resting her arms, Cassidy took a slow breath. She needed to figure out an escape before her pursuers found her again. If it had been days, then most likely she’d been reported on the news. That meant it was only a matter of time before he found her.

  A nurse came in the room wearing light blue scrubs, and her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled warmly, her green eyes sympathetic.

  “Glad to see you’re awake, Ms. Fletcher. I’m your day nurse, Emily.” She walked over and started checking Cassidy’s vitals. “I imagine waking up like this can be unnerving, but I want to assure you that you’re perfectly safe.”

  “Being strapped down to a bed doesn’t feel safe.”

  It felt like she was back at Stone Oaks with Dr. Timmins, with him asking her questions, treating her like she had lost her mind. The circumstances made her anxiety rise again, the monitor beeping in sync with it. No doubt the attackers on jet skis
had reported back—unless Miguel’s friends had found them first.

  She sucked in a breath, wondering who exactly Miguel was. It’d been, oh heck, she didn’t know…fate maybe? Who comes along that early on a boat to the exact buoy she’d been clinging to? The memory of it sent a shiver over her. The gauze wrapped around her leg was tight, making her aware. The pain, at least, wasn’t as bad as it could have been. It would be worse if she didn’t get out of there.

  “I know it doesn’t feel safe now.” Emily wrote something on the chart. “But the doctor will be in to see you soon. Your parents are also flying in. Once they get you started on a regiment of medication everything will get better.”

  She balled her hands into fists. Meds were the last thing she needed. They’d been forced down her throat before, and when she’d finally managed to escape that dang place, getting them out of her system had been worse. The shakes, the mild hallucinations, and nervousness. It’d been a bad experience—one she was not at all wanting to go through again.

  “How long was I unconscious?” Cassidy asked.

  The nurse checked her watch. “You were brought in around eight this morning. It’s 4:42 p.m. so roughly eight and a half hours.”

  Not too bad. At least it hadn’t been days or more. She still had time to make an escape.

  “Listen.” She tried to keep her voice calm. “I’m not crazy. I don’t need to be tied down. What I need is for someone to listen to me. Women are going to wind up dead if we don’t do something!”

  Emily patted her shoulder as the monitors increased again.

  So much for staying calm. Each rapid beat of her heart was given away by the incessant machine beside her. Cassidy would have kicked it if she could, but even as she thought it, her frustration levels rose.

  “You need to relax,” Emily said. “You’ve been through a lot. The gentlemen who brought you in said he found you stranded on a buoy in the middle of the ocean with a bullet wound in your leg. The surgery went well, but you’re still weak and need to rest.”

  Miguel! He could corroborate her story. She jerked against the restraints, hope rushing through her. “Then he told you about the thugs on jet skis who shot at us? He did, right?”

  She finished writing on the chart and stuck it in the clear file holder hanging on the wall. “The police will be in to talk to you about that.”

  Cassidy didn’t like that she was being so vague. Ivanov had probably already dropped the women off. No way would he kill any of them knowing Cassidy had gotten away. He must have been worried she’d survived, considering he’d sent people out after her. He’d wanted to be certain. She’d gotten a shot off on him, but it hadn’t been enough to kill him—the bastard. He couldn’t get away. Not after everything he’d done.

  “Please.” She pulled against the restraints, ignoring the fresh wave of pain in her leg.

  Ivanov would send people to silence her. He wouldn’t risk being exposed. Her stupid history in a mental institution always made people doubt her, but Cassidy wasn’t wrong. It had taken her so long, and she’d exhausted so many assets, but she’d found out the truth.

  “You have to listen to me. Grigory Ivanov is a murderer! He killed my sister!”

  Every beep of the machine sounded as hysterical as she felt. Being strapped down didn’t help. Knowing her parents were on the way definitely didn’t help. She knew what they would want to do. Her parents would say she was neurotic, obsessed with Meredith’s killer. If Cassidy didn’t get out, she might not get another chance at Ivanov. She might be locked up in a mental institution against her will. The whole world seemed to be against her, when all she wanted was justice for her sister’s killer. Why couldn’t anyone understand that?

  “Ms. Fletcher please.” Nurse Emily walked over and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to hold her down. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “No, Ivanov is going to hurt me and others if you don’t let me go!” She jerked up, reaching as far as the restraints would allow.

  Emily sighed and pressed down as Cassidy tried to fight back, but the restraints held her down too darn well.

  “I need some help in here!” Emily’s voice carried over the beeps of machines, and a few moments later a doctor came in with a second nurse.

  “Ms. Fletcher,” he said as the two women held her down. “If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to sedate you.”

  “I will calm down if you unstrap me!” Her heart pounded and the world seemed to close in on her. Darkness tinged the edge of her vision and she felt the tips of her fingers going numb.

  They didn’t understand how much danger she was in. How much danger other women were in. She just needed someone to listen to her. To believe her. To have her back.

  “Please!” She turned a pleading gaze on the doctor, but he was already filling a syringe with something. Her eyes widened. “No, no, no!”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Emily said. “You’re just going to sleep for a while.”

  The doctor injected the needle into her IV line and, for a moment, her veins felt cold before her body started to relax.

  “You don’t understand,” she mumbled. “Please…”

  Before she could finish her thought, the medication pulled her under.

  Miguel wanted to go into Cassidy’s room when the others rushed in, but a nurse barred him, and Hunter put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from forcing his way in. Not that Miguel really had a reason to force his way in, but he didn’t like Sirena—or Cassidy Fletcher, as he’d come to find out—being so vulnerable. The family had asked that no one be allowed in until they got there. He didn’t understand why, but it wasn’t his place to ask. When she’d passed out, his heart nearly stopped with worry. She’d seemed like a tanned porcelain doll, with wet strands cascading across her face. His urge to protect her had been fierce. They’d patched up the flesh wound on his arm a few hours ago. Just a few stitches and he was fine. A couple of black and whites had taken his statement, and then told him not to leave town. As if he’d been the one to start the open ocean firefights.

  “Come on,” Hunter said. “Let’s get some coffee.”

  “You go,” Miguel said, taking a seat in a plush, peach bench outside the room. “I’ll wait here.”

  Hunter raised a brow and pushed his tan cowboy hat back enough to study Miguel. After a moment, he nodded. “All right. I’ll bring you back some.”

  His boots echoed on the white linoleum as he walked away, leaving Miguel by himself. Hunter was one of Miguel’s closest friends. It hadn’t taken them long to hit it off when Hunter moved to Fort Lauderdale a few years back. Normally, Miguel was the one cooling Hunter’s quick temper, but ever since he’d been dating Sin Masters and seeing a shrink about his nightmares, the Cowboy had mellowed out—and considering that Sin had a stalker last year and Miguel trusted Hunter to follow his gut on what was happening, he knew Hunter was doing the same with Miguel.

  Something felt wrong about this whole situation. The cops had seemed very passive about the shootout, and Miguel was starting to think that Cassidy had been right—sort of. It wasn’t that the cops couldn’t help, but they sure didn’t seem to want to.

  “Fancy meeting you here, Cortez.” Detective Wallace walked toward him, wearing black dress slacks, and a short sleeve, mauve button-down shirt. Long sleeves were bad for business in South Florida.

  He stood up when she approached. “Fancy has nothing to do with it. Just pure luck that you get to see me today.”

  She rolled her green eyes and shook her head. Strands of red hair bobbed around her freckled cheeks. “Even now, you’re so full of yourself.”

  Everyone at the Crow’s Nest knew Detective Wallace. Not only had she helped with Sin Masters’ stalker case, but she and Cap had some sort of history that Miguel didn’t know about.

  As much as he wanted to flirt, his gaze went back to Cassidy’s room. “Cap call you in?”

  Wallace shook her head. “No. You’re just lucky I happened to be a
ssigned to this case.”

  “Now who’s full of herself?” He smirked.

  “Still you,” she said.

  He became serious. “So, you are looking into the shooting?”

  “Probably not in the way you think,” she said.

  Before he could get her to elaborate, the nurses walked out, followed by the doctor.

  “I’ll be right back.” She walked over to talk to the staff.

  Not exactly a stickler for the rules, Miguel walked into the room to check on Cassidy. The monitors hummed softly as Cassidy’s chest rose and fell. Her lips were half parted and her fingers twitched slightly. He sighed, watching her, wondering what sort of trouble the Siren of the Sea was in. Miguel’s instincts hardly ever did him wrong, and right now, every alarm bell he had was screaming. Something wasn’t right about this situation.

  “Cortez,” Wallace said from the door.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  “I need to talk to you outside.”

  More like she just wanted him to get out of the room since he wasn’t supposed to be there.

  “Sure thing.” He flashed her a grin and walked out.

  Wallace shut the door behind them. “Have you ever met Ms. Fletcher before finding her in the middle of the Atlantic?”

  He raised his brows. When cops started a conversation this way it usually meant the victim didn’t have a clean nose. Didn’t mean they weren’t victims, but already, he knew that Wallace was dubious about something.

  “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’.

  “You sure?”

  He laughed. “Trust me, señorita. If I had met her before, I would remember.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip. The swell of her gun silhouetted through the thin fabric of her shirt. “And she didn’t tell you anything about why she was out there?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk before the jet ski patrol started shooting at us.”

  “And they shot first?”

  Irritation piqued in his chest and he took a breath, trying to keep it in check before he started mouthing off. “No, I just decided it would be fun to use them as target practice. They just happened to have guns to return fire.”