For a moment nobody moved, until summoning his best Tom Cruise, Den leaped into action, throwing himself at a surprised Cashoo, wresting the gun out of the boy’s hands, hoping that the crew would follow his lead, and that he wasn’t alone in his bid for freedom.
Chapter Ninety-Two
Six hours had passed and Sergei was starting to get the feeling that something was very wrong. He couldn’t reach either Maksim or Viktor, and that was infuriating enough. They both had phones. No signal. Nada. Nothing.
Had Cruz double-crossed him?
Had he dared to make the hijacking of
Was he planning on keeping Kasianenko, claiming the ransom, then letting the bastard go?
If Cruz did such a thing, there was nothing to stop Sergei from ordering a hit on him, a major hit that would involve torture before death, because nobody fucked with Sergei Zukov and lived to tell the tale.
He summoned Ina from her bed and berated her.
‘It’s not my fault if he’s done somethin’ bad,’ she whined. ‘I can’t tell him what to do.’
‘How much does your low-life brother care about you?’ Sergei demanded, his left cheek twitching out of control.
‘I dunno,’ she said sulkily. ‘We have different fathers, y’know.’
As if that made a difference. They’d both sprung forth from between the legs of the same whore.
‘If your brother don’t return soon,’ Sergei threatened, ‘if he’s screwed me — then you can pack your shit and get out. Understand me,
Ina understood.
Chapter Ninety-Three
After taking cover, Flynn tried to figure out their next move. He was dealing with a group of inexperienced men who knew nothing about combat. It wasn’t as if they were in the midst of a battle in Afghanistan, but this was still dangerous territory and he didn’t care to see anyone else getting hurt.
A bullet had grazed the top of his ear — no big deal. He was more concerned about Aleksandr, who’d taken a bullet in the thigh and was bleeding profusely. They’d gotten him into Kyril’s room, where they’d discovered the security man’s dead body.
Aleksandr had shaken his head and groaned his sorrow.
Two dead already. How many more? Flynn didn’t want to think about it. As long as Sierra and the women were safe, that was his main concern.
‘I’m afraid you’re out of action,’ he informed Aleksandr. ‘Luca and Cliff, you’ll stay here with him. If anyone comes visiting, don’t hesitate — shoot ’em.’
Cliff nodded. Shit! He was somewhat fearful. This wasn’t play-acting any more, and the gun he was holding onto was making his hands slick with sweat. Not to mention Kyril’s dead body, a signal that the pirates really meant business.
‘I’d like to have a gun,’ Taye said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, full of nervous energy.
‘And I’d like to have a cold beer,’ Flynn retaliated. ‘But we gotta make do with what we got. So you and I are gonna go see what’s goin’ on. You up for an adventure?’
Taye wasn’t afraid. Being raised in a tough inner-city London area had taught him plenty about how to be streetwise and he had a few special moves of his own.
‘I’ll lead the way,’ Flynn said. ‘If I get my head blown off, take my gun an’ mow ’em all to hell an’ back. Right?’
‘Gotcha,’ Taye said, hoping Flynn’s words were his idea of a joke.
Blood was trickling down from the top of Flynn’s ear, landing on his neck. As long as it stayed out of his eyes he didn’t care. He was on a hunt, ready to shoot anyone who got in his way.
A triumphant Den surveyed the scene. Finally, they had them! All three pirates and no injuries, other than Jeromy who’d gotten shot earlier.
One of the deckhands had fetched sturdy ropes, and after overpowering the three pirates they’d tied them up.
Now not only did they have three prisoners, they also had their guns, making Den feel more secure about everyone’s future.
Guy had taken charge of an incoherent Renee, wrapping her in Jeromy’s robe, feeding her sips of water, assuring her she was safe now.
Renee was still unable to speak. Tears coursed down her cheeks while she clutched her arms around her body and rocked back and forth.
Guy led her over to Jeromy and sat her down next to him. ‘Look after her,’ Guy said tersely. ‘Who knows what the poor girl’s been through.’
Jeromy was about to object, then he thought better of it. Guy had shown him kindness, therefore he had to reciprocate in spite of his injury, which was probably draining the life out of him — although Guy had fixed him up with a makeshift tourniquet which could quite possibly be saving his miserable life.
Jeromy was not a religious man. He’d only been to church twice in all his forty-two years, and that was only to appease one of his ex-lovers. Slumped on the floor in the mess-hall of a luxury yacht, he suddenly found himself praying to a God he’d never conversed with before. A God he’d never believed in, only right now that God was all he had.
He reached over and touched Renee’s arm. ‘There, there, dear,’ he said soothingly. ‘Everything will be all right.’
Clutching her loot, Mercedes made it up to the bridge.
No Cruz.
A dead Amiin.
She was horrified. Amiin was Cruz’s right arm. Who could have done this to him? And where was Cruz?
She skipped away from the bridge, and as she passed Kyril’s room she was grabbed by a concerned Luca Perez, who held her arm and said to her in Spanish, ‘There are pirates aboard, girl. Get in here now. You’ll be safe with us.’
‘I know,’ she said, thinking fast. ‘They haven’t seen me. I’m… uh… looking for weapons.’
‘Are there guns? Where?’
‘There’s a place I know,’ she said vaguely.
‘You have to stay,’ Luca said, reverting to English. ‘These people are bloodthirsty savages — they even shot their own man.’
‘Amiin?’ She said his name before she could stop herself.
Cliff stepped forward. ‘What did you say?’
‘Amen,’ she muttered, crossing herself.
‘You’re a girl — so if they catch you it won’t be good,’ Luca warned.
‘Thanks for your concern, Mr Perez. Thing is, I know this boat pretty well, so there’s no way they’ll catch me.’
‘What’s in the bag?’ Aleksandr asked, leaning forward from Kyril’s chair.
