Her uncle tilted his head back and scanned the windows of the bridge house. Bran knew the instant the man spotted his niece because his eyes filled with tears and his handlebar mustache quivered around the duct tape pasted over his mouth. Bran wasn’t convinced her uncle was nodding so much as trying to get away from the pistol pointed at his temple. But Maddy took the motion as an affirmative.
She made a little sound of relief and tightened her grip around the lip of the windowsill until her knuckles showed white through her skin. Bran longed to go to her, but his need to maintain his firing position stopped him.
“Give me a quick rundown on what the relationship is here,” he commanded. Did he need to take out Mr. Slick, a.k.a Tony? Or should he hold his fire?
“Gene is my father’s younger brother,” she explained in a whisper. “He and Dad started Powers Petroleum together, but Gene’s always been more an idea man than a businessman. He’s real good at beginnin’ things. Not so good at finishin’ them. After a year, he got bored, cashed out, and used the proceeds to start up somethin’ new. He’s been doin’ that for thirty years. Birthin’ new companies and sellin’ them off if they’re profitable. Declarin’ bankruptcy if they’re not.” Her lips twisted with disapproval at this last bit. Despite that, Bran could see her love for her uncle shining in her eyes.
“Three years ago he met Tony, who was workin’ as a mid-level executive at BP.” He assumed she meant British Petroleum. “The two of them concocted a scheme to use Tony’s contacts in the business and Uncle Gene’s family name to start an oil company specializin’ in new and risky means of extracting oil from previously untapped sources like shale grounds, tar sands, and ultra-deep rigs.”
“They’re partners?” Bran asked, scrutinizing the two men.
Maddy nodded.
“So what’s he doing holding your uncle hostage then?” Bran demanded.
“Let’s find out,” she muttered more to herself than to him. Raising her voice, she cried, “What do you want, Tony?” She pushed up slightly, trying to get a better view of the men.
A sense of warning crawled over the back of Bran’s neck like a millipede. “Stay low,” he commanded. “Low, Maddy.” He scanned the interior cabin of the motor yacht through his scope. Or at least what he couldseeof it through the tinted windows. He didn’t like anything about this situation. He didn’t like that Mason was alone out there. Hecertainlydidn’t like that he had no idea if there were any mercs left.
“We tried asking nicely, Maddy!” Slick yelled. “But your father is a stubborn man!”
Bran could hear the dry sound Maddy’s throat made when she swallowed. “What are you talkin’ about, Tony? Why are you doin’ this?”
Tony darted a quick look over his shoulder, and Bran narrowed his eyes.Something isn’t right.
“We were fine until OPEC dropped the price of oil!” Tony cried, his face ruddy in the yacht’s running lights. Bran bet if he looked through the scope of his rifle at Tony’s eyes, he’d find them as bloodshot as LT’s uncle’s after he’d smoked some of the herb he grew out back of the Wayfarer Island house.For my glaucoma, the crusty old sailor always claimed, although Bran was pretty sure the man’s eyesight was 20/20.
As for Gene’s eyes? Bran couldn’t see them. After the man’s initial scan of the bridge house, he’d let his chin drop against his chest, his thinning gray hair falling over his brow and shadowing his face. He’d stopped struggling, stopped trying to pull away from Tony. Now, he stood there docilely, seemingly resigned to be a victim. It struck Bran as strange. From what Bran knew of Maddy’s family, cowardice and surrender didn’t run in the blood.
“Then the one venture we had up and running wasn’t making enough to fund the expansion of the rest!” Tony continued. “OPEC knew this, knew all the businesses like ours that were finding new ways to extract oil couldn’t bear bargain-basement prices for long. They don’twantus losing our dependence on foreign oil!”
He certainly was Chatty Cathy all of a sudden. The more he talked, the more the mercury rose inside Bran’s internal trouble thermometer.
Something isn’t fuckin’ right.He could feel it.
“Theywantus reliant on them for our fuel needs!” Tony kept on, talking so fast now that spittle arced from his mouth, catching the lights and glinting on its way overboard. “But we didn’t give up! We just…we just needed a little help, a loan to tide us over until a few more of the new ventures were up and running! But your father refused! He’s forced our hands! He’s forcedmyhand! Ineedthat money!”
So what?Bran thought, feeling like he was looking at one of those optical illusions that shifted shape just when you thought you were seeing it correctly.He thought he’d hold Maddy and Gene Powers for ransom to get the funds from Maddy’s dad?How the hell did Tony think he’d get away with that? Surely a man didn’t make it to the position of mid-level executive in a company like BP if he was an idiot.
Unless, he planned to kill ’em after he got the money, Bran thought.Get rid of the witnesses and act like he received the funds from some other source.With Maddy and Gene dead, there’d be no way to prove otherwise.
His finger tightened on the trigger, easily lining up a head shot. One pull and this could all be over. But there was something going on here. Something he felt sure he needed to understand. “Just keep him talking,” he told Maddy.
She turned to him, her cheeks pale as winter’s first snow. But her eyes were hot with determination.
“But what now, Tony?” she called. “What do you expect—”
Bran stopped listening because Gene Powers lifted his face then. Wet tracks glistened on his lined cheeks, but his eyes were as dry as a desert wind. Bran’s antenna twanged. He recognized the look on Gene’s face. It was one of crushing regret and…a scary sort of determination. Gene shook his head and did something weird with his shoulders. He sort of shrugged them and moved them around. Bran would’ve said he was trying get comfortable against his restraints, but there was something…offabout the movement.
Gene lifted his eyes back to the bridge house windows, and if Bran wasn’t mistaken, he smiled behind the duct tape. A curl of understanding unwound inside Bran. He sighted down the length of his barrel. Sure as shit, all at once Gene’s hands were untied. They knocked Tony’s pistol away from his temple. A split second later, Gene plowed his shoulder into the younger man and sent them both flying across the yacht’s back deck.
“Uncle Gene!” Maddy screamed as the two men landed with a harsh-soundingthud, all the while fighting for supremacy and control of the pistol.
Bran cursed and tightened his finger on his trigger. But he didn’t take a shot. Not yet. He didn’t have a clear line of sight and—
Bang! Bang!
“Nooooo!” Maddy shrieked, jumping to her feet.
