Maura was feeling an ironic sense of gratitude to her Da.
After years of taking beatings from the man, she'd learned how to push the pain away, bury it long enough to do what needed to be done. Watching the lights flashing all over the yacht as the men searched for her and Fassell, Maura waited for the small launch boat to take off to circle and look for them. Forcing her exhausted arms into a breaststroke, she made it to the back of the yacht and scrambled back on. Mentally categorizing the layout she'd seen on her forced march through the ship, she tried to think how she could gain weapons and where they'd put James.
***
The entire yacht was in a state of low-key hysteria. No one wanted attention from the authorities or other boats, so most of the shouting was subdued. James finally managed to pin Kingston with a firm stare. "Morgan!" he said sharply, "stop hollering at everyone and listen to me."
His furious First in Command ran a shaking hand over her silver head. "How could you have made this all go wrong so quickly?"
James persuasively shook his head. "Everything can be retrieved. But I can't do it tied to this bloody chair. So, set me free and we'll take the next step."
Angrily waving her hand, Kingston had one of her men untie James, who stood and stretched gracefully. Snagging a wet cloth from the bar, he casually wiped the blood from his face and straightened his tie. He looked up to see the entire room staring at him.
"What?" he shrugged, "I've been tied to that bloody chair for three hours. Now, then. Let's get this sorted out, shall we?" Pointing at the angry Saudis, James smiled soothingly. "Gentlemen, you'll see that your bid accounts for the REE partnership are intact. An acceptance email from the new Head of State, President Maaziz is forthcoming after I contact him. Now please, gentlemen. Don't disturb yourselves with our little… internal squabble. Holbrook, give their financial man their accounts codes so he can see they're secure. Let's all have a drink and be calm, shall we?"
Nicholas was staring at the Second in Command with a slack jaw and a doltish gaze of adoration on his face. “Smooth bastard,” he mumbled in a mix of admiration and envy, as he turned to do what he was told.
Taking a restorative sip of his scotch, James turned to Kingston, smiling as if the two were simply sharing a little joke. "Now, nothing changes for the Corporation-" he put up a stern hand to halt her protest. "Fassell is likely dead, I'll admit. But the man was a liability. While it's a shame to lose MacLaren, she was a bloodthirsty little bitch, which is why I'm certain Third in Command is most certainly at the bottom of the bay right now." He smiled pleasantly at Kingston, who was silent and utterly aghast. "Now, let's finish this transaction, shall we?"
Pounds and contracts, that was something Kingston understood, James knew this. Eyeing him shrewdly, she agreed. "Certainly. So, it's time for you to retrieve our personal accounts, dear."
"Of course," James agreed, "I'll need to retrieve some items from our hotel suite. Precautionary measures, you understand, Morgan." He knew he needed to get off the yacht and back into friendly territory. Maura would make her way back there as the only logical meeting point, and he had to know what really happened to O'Connell. They were both alive. He knew it.
"Of course," echoed Kingston. "I'll send some of our security along to keep everything running, smoothly, shall I?"
James shrugged indifferently, looking over to see Holbrook was calming the Saudis. As everyone relaxed, his hand slid to the gun taken from Fassell and left on the desk, sliding it into the palm of his hand.
***
Maura was surprised at how few people she actually had to dodge, searching the yacht for James. She'd easily knocked out one of the men on the Saudi's security force and taken his gun, so at least she had one weapon. Finally, the sound of several voices lured her to the large stateroom she'd passed earlier that night in Fassell's clutches.
Her beloved was battered, but still intact, drinking scotch and calmly conversing with Kingston.
First in Command smiled up at James, "As I said, of course, my dear. But I'll require some insurance." Pulling her gun, Kingston pointed it at his forehead. "I believe a careful shot to, say, the shoulder, won't kill you. But you will bleed out without medical supervision, so I imagine you'll be in a bit of a rush to gather those needed items at the hotel, correct? I'll even lend you the helicopter to help you on your way." Smiling in her motherly way, Morgan lowered the gun to James's shoulder, taking off the safety.
Maura couldn't risk it. She shot a hole into Kingston's thigh, desperately longing to aim it at her cold, black heart but not knowing if they'd need her to escape. Recovering quickly, James pulled his gun and kicked the one First in Command had held away from the woman’s writhing, bleeding form. He couldn't help the huge, relieved grin that stretched his lips as his Maura came through the door. "Am I interrupting anything, Mr. Pine?"
"Nothing crucial," he shrugged, ignoring the yelps of the Saudis and the sudden clicking of firearms all over the room. While he kept his gun on Kingston, Maura edged around him and aimed at the closest Saudi. He was wearing the most jewelry, so she assumed he was in charge of the delegation. "Darling, what are you wearing?"
Refusing to take her eyes off her target, Maura shrugged. "Ah... oh! Fassell was having a fashion show with all the lingerie you brought with us."
There was an uneasy pause. "It's transparent, now that I'm wet, isn't it?"
James chuckled, "I'm afraid so, darling."
"So... essentially I'm naked, then."
"Well, yes, sweetheart. But may I say, there's never been a more welcome sight." He briskly kicked Kingston, who was still squawking about her wound. "Now stop whining, Morgan. One would think you've never been shot before." Looking up at the room, he smiled blandly. "Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure. Sorry about the unpleasantness, but your deal with President Maaziz is sound. My associates and I do need to return to the mainland to attend to some issues. I'll need that pilot for the helicopter now?"
It was her fault, Maura thought for years later. Her fault when James was shot.
Chapter 30: He Took It for Me, You Know
In which we learn about C-4 explosives, treacherous colleagues, and extortion.
Her combat instructors would have been disgusted with her, Maura thought.
"Always keep scanning the room," they'd lectured. "You never know where the threat is coming from." But really, it was the last thing she could have expected when the shot rang out, hitting James in the chest as he pushed himself in front of her.
