After dousing the wound in antiseptic, he stitched it up one painful thread at a time. After five minutes, he snipped the line, tied it off, then covered the wound with a bandage. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. And considering the circumstances, he was just glad to still be breathing and not behind bars.
With his stab wound dealt with, he caught his breath, then pulled his phone out, but he sighed as he saw that it had no service. Taking stock of his supplies, he noticed a radio resting on the deck. He couldn’t get ahold of Lynch. No, the radio only had a five-mile range. But he could get ahold of someone else.
EIGHTEEN
Jake Shaw stood on the bow of the twenty-foot aluminum cabin cruiser as he motored it across the lagoon, dragging the magnetometer. The old, custom utility boat had been stripped of all unnecessary components, giving the craft a draft of just six inches. They’d scraped the bottom a few times, but the aluminum hull had no trouble brushing it off.
Taking his eyes off the shallow water surrounding them, Jake stepped into the small cabin and pulled a beer from a cooler. It was eighty-five degrees out, and though the breeze off the ocean helped, the humidity was still seventy percent. He clicked on a portable fan then sprayed water over his face before turning the small boat around.
Picking up where the others had left off earlier that day, Jake swept the magnetometer back and forth, hoping for a hit. But there’d been no dice all day. Either the old prospector they’d stolen the Confederate buckle from was lying, or the treasure wasn’t there.
He peered across the calm lagoon and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He didn’t relish the thought of having to give Lynch the bad news. Their leader was known for his hot temper. Jake had seen it in action many times before—most recently when he’d killed the owner of Teddy’s Marina and ordered his body to be sunk as a feast for the crabs.
His radio crackled to life on the dashboard, waking him from his thoughts.
“Jake, are you there?” a staticky voice said. “This is Casper.”
“What do you want, Nix?” Jake said. He leaned forward, checked the water around his small boat, then turned it around for another pass.
I swear, if this punk asks me for an update, I’m gonna tear him a new one next time I see him.
“We’ve got a big fucking problem, that’s what.”
Jake idled the engine, wanting to give all of his attention to the conversation. “What kind of problem?”
“We had a guy show up at the marina. He snuck in through the top-story window and attacked us. Killed Tuck. Nearly killed me.”
“Shit.”
“And it gets worse. Someone called the police. I barely managed to escape as they cracked down on the place. I’m hiding out at Sands Key and I’m not going back to the marina anytime soon. Hell no.”
Jake ran a hand through his thick hair.
“This guy who showed up,” he said. “What’d he look like?”
“I barely caught but a glimpse of him during our fight. He threw a knife into my leg. Buried it there from across the room like it was nothing. Some Matrix stuff, I’m telling you. Then he stomped my hand as I reached for a shotgun and knocked me out. Maybe took a few seconds is all.”
“I said, what did he look like?”
There was a short pause.
“We talked briefly before that downstairs. He was big. Well over six feet. And strong. Short hair. Wore a dark blue T-shirt.” Another pause. “Oh, and there was a woman with him. A smokin hot blonde. Can’t think of anything else.”
Jake tightened his grip on the phone. It was the same guy he’d encountered that morning—the one with the fancy boat and the karate type moves. The confrontation had made him mad as hell, but this? This sent him over the edge. The man who’d been an annoyance had become a serious problem. A problem that Jake needed to squash like a bug.
“Jake, you still there?” Casper said.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“What are we gonna do about this?”
Jake clenched his jaw. The image of the stranger, and the confrontation that had left him unarmed, soaked from head to toe, and humiliated, burned hot in his mind.
“Lynch already told us what we’re gonna do about this,” Jake said. “We’re gonna kill this local hero. Show him what happens to people who mess with the Aryan Order.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? The guy took us out like we were nothing. He’s got some serious training on his—”
“I said that we’re going to kill him. How long ago did you leave the marina?”
“I just got to Sands. The cops showed up maybe twenty minutes ago.”
Jake narrowed his gaze. That didn’t leave much time. He had no doubt that the stranger picking their operation apart would come back for him next. They needed a plan. They needed to tip the scales in their favor.
“This stranger won’t be a problem for much longer,” Jake said as an idea popped into his mind. “We’ll take care of him.”
“What about me, Jake?” Casper said.
“What about you?”
“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
Jake sighed in annoyance. “Just hang tight. I told you, I’ll deal with this nuisance. Then we’ll continue on as planned.”
Casper started to reply, but Jake cut his words by
