“Don’t forget, you can watch me the whole time, but I need to explain a few things to you before I leave.”
Zipping up the bag, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, then walked to the security room and stopped at the door.
“The code is 2664,” he continued, punching it in. “Got it?”
“2664. Got it.”
“If you push a wrong button, you’ll hear beeps. You’ll have five seconds to do it correctly before a toxic gas is released and knocks you out.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“The code for the front door is 3775,” he declared, quickly leading her inside and marching to a metal box on the wall and opening the cover. “One number up for each of the digits for this room. The same rules apply. I’ve shown you how to view the security cameras from the computer. If you see anyone lurking around and feel threatened, this purple button will lower metal screens over the windows and a generator will kick in. That’s a backup in case someone tries to cut the power or bad weather knocks it out.”
“I know this is a safehouse, but just how—?”
“Sorry, Elizabeth, your questions have to wait. I’m also texting you the login information for the cameras on the yacht,” he continued, retrieving his phone and tapping the screen. “You can watch me take off through the telescope, and virtually travel with me to St. Thomas. Does that make you feel better?”
“Yes, thank you, that’s fantastic, but you’d better come back in one piece or I’ll be really pissed.”
“Hey, this is a walk in the park,” he said confidently, placing his phone in a zippered pocket, then holding her face between his hands, he lowered his lips on hers in a soft, leisurely kiss.
“I know what I’m doing,” he murmured. “You don’t have to worry.”
Abruptly turning and walking out the door, he heard it click closed behind him. He was confident, but like most missions, he knew anything could happen.
* * *
Dan Miller knew he was a dead man.
He just didn’t know why.
For over an hour he had paced, racking his brain trying to figure out the crime he’d committed.
Regardless of the sin, there were only two options open to him.
Stay put and try to talk his way out of whatever it was, or take off.
The night was dark and the weather bad.
Conditions that made escape easier.
But if he was caught he wouldn’t even see Conchello.
A bullet would blast through his skull.
Unless he was dragged back to be mercilessly tortured.
A knock on his door made him jump.
“Who is it?”
“It’s David, let me in.”
Worried he was about to be prematurely executed, Dan moved nervously to the door and cracked it open.
“Fuck, what happened to you?” he asked, staring at the drenched man. “It’s not raining that hard.”
“I had to bring a cigarette boat through that fucking storm,” David growled, pushing past him.
“What’s a cigarette boat?”
“It’s a long, loud, fast jet boat, and it has no canopy. Grab me some clean clothes. I’m taking a shower.”
“Why are you here?”
“Why do you think?” David snapped, striding to the bathroom. “To make sure you don’t go anywhere. Now get me some clean fucking clothes.”
Breaking out in a sweat, Dan looked across at the door.
Next to it, his gun waited in the closet.
But David was tougher, meaner, and much stronger.
Defeated and scared, Dan opened his sock drawer.
Staring down at the hidden money, temptation beckoned.
If he managed to get away, he’d disappear in New Guinea.
The wild west of the South Pacific.
He heard the shower turn off.
He’d waited too long.
“Hey! Clothes!” David demanded as he marched back in the room, a towel wrapped around his waist.
All hope lost, Dan picked up a pair of socks, tossed them on the bed, then opened another drawer and found a clean pair of briefs, sweatpants, and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
A loud knock pounded the door.
“Police. Open up.”
“What the fuck?” David asked in a hushed whisper. “Why are they here? What have you done?”
“I have no idea.”
“I don’t want them to see me. I’ll be in the bathroom, but I’m warning you, don’t do anything stupid.”
Chapter 13
Dan’s eyes darted back to the sock drawer.
“Detective Miller, we need to speak with you!” the police shouted, banging a second time. “Open up.”
Stepping quickly to the door and cracking it open, he stared innocently at the two uniformed men.
“Is there a problem?”
“Yes,” a tall, brawny officer replied as they walked past him and into the room. “Where’s your friend?”
“Friend?”
“We received reports of shouting,” the shorter officer interjected.
“Oh, him, he left. Problem solved.”
“You have to come with us. Complaints have been made against you, and now this. The chief has had enough.”
“What complaints?”
“Breaking into a boat and ongoing harassment,” the taller cop continued, stepping forward. “As my partner just stated, you need to come with us.”
“That was a misunderstanding,” Dan protested. “Hey, fellas, we’re on the same side. I’m down here chasing a murder suspect. I can’t always be—”
“Detective Miller, do you want to do this the hard way or the easy way?” the muscled officer demanded.
“Fine, fine,” Dan agreed, raising his hands in surrender, suddenly believing fate had miraculously intervened to get him away from David Clark, and possibly even Conchello. “I suppose things are done differently down here than they are in L.A.”
“You can explain yourself to the chief.”
“I understand,” Dan said calmly, moving to the closet by the door and taking out his coat. “You’re just doing your job.”
With one of the cops in front of him and the other behind, they left the room, but stepping outside, the lashing wind and rain blasted across Dan’s face, instantly clearing his head.
Reasoning with Conchello had been absurd.
The drug lord killed first and asked questions later.
Abruptly realizing he had a chance to escape, a wave of elation moved through Dan’s body—then quickly faded. With no money in his pocket he didn’t know where to start.
* * *
Scott and Jack had
