Much to her surprise, she actually got fairly close to her target. Within a couple feet of it anyway. The men were able to lean over the rubber raft and paddle until two of them could reach the life preserver. After they got a firm handhold, she grabbed her end of the rope and walked toward the aft of the yacht, pulling the dinghy closer and closer with every step. By the time she descended the stairs to the teak swim deck, the men in the rubber boat were already securing the rope to one of theBlackGold’s glistening stainless-steel cleats.
Shoot. No gas canisters.Just a couple of weird-looking metal tubes.Well, no matter. She’d make do.
“It’s a good thing we saw you—” That was all she managed before the yawning black mouth of a gun barrel was shoved in her face.
She blinked twice, stumbling back as her entire body flashed hot and cold. The hair on her head tried to crawl off her scalp, the traitorous stuff, and she opened her mouth to scream. But when the man drawing down on her saw her gearing up for a bloodcurdling yell, he quickly jumped from the boat onto the deck. He punched her straight in the throat, and that was the end of that. The only sound to issue from her open mouth was a wheezing, “Uhhhhh! Uhhhhh!”
The pain and shock of the blow played second fiddle to the fact that she could…not…breathe. She clutched at her paralyzed neck, falling back another step. Her eyes watered; her chest ached from lack of oxygen.
Thiscan’t be happening!
The remaining six men crawled from the bobbing dinghy onto the deck, each of them shouldering what looked to be a machine gun. She couldn’t be absolutely sure of the make of the weapons since her only experience with firearms was limited to the shotguns and rifles her father and brothers used to hunt pheasant and white-tailed deer. But she’d seenBlackHawkDownandApocalypseNow, and the lethal black weapons clutched so casually in these men’s hands certainlylookedlike machine guns.
“Do not speak,” the first guy said, spinning her around so he could snake an arm around her neck and shoving the barrel of his gun into her right kidney.
Donotspeak?Holy shitfire! As if shecouldwith a crushed windpipe!
The man turned to say something to one of his compatriots in a language that didn’t sound a thing like Spanish.
Thiscan’tbehappening!her mind yelled again, unable to get its ass in gear and come to terms with the harsh reality of her situation.It’s a nightmare. You’re having a nightmare.Wakeup, Maddy! Wake up!
“Move!” the man holding her hostage hissed in her ear. His breath smelled like something had up and died inside him. And that was better than any pinch to the arm, because evenherwild imagination couldn’t have conjured upthatstench. Shewasn’tdreaming. Thiswashappening. Which meant that all that darkness edging into her vision was real, all those prickling sensations along her nerve endings were genuine, and if she didn’t get some oxygen to her brain in about five seconds, she was going to pass out flat.
“Uhhhhh! Uhhhhh!” Her lungs worked to expand her ribs, even though her crippled neck refused to let one drop of life-sustaining oxygen through. But just as her vision tunneled down to a single dot, just as her legs began to crumple beneath her, her throat chose that exact moment to open itself up.PraisebetoJesusandallhisfollowers!She sucked in a burning, desperate breath and was disgusted to discover that her captor’s rancid mouth wasn’t the only thing that could stand a good, solid scrubbing. The air around her was filled with the smell of tangy sweat and nauseating body odor. So strong she could almost taste it.
Whothehellarethesemen?Not Cubans. The man’s accent was decidedly…off.
Terrorists.
The idea bloomed in her mind like a poisonous flower, but she refused to pluck it. Terrorists? No, surely not. Surely she was just predisposed to labeling them as such because of all the stories in the news. Becausewhyin the world would terrorists be floating in a dinghy out in the middle of the Florida Straits? It didn’t make a lick of sense! Though the racing of her heart and the throbbing of the blood in her brain told her that, sense or no sense, terrorists or no terrorists, she’d allowed her father’s yacht to be boarded by a group of very nasty men.
“Move!” the man behind her hissed again, his foul breath making her gag. And when he punched the barrel of his machine gun into her side, causing her to cry out, she was left with no recourse but to do as she was told.
Someone had replaced her kneecaps with jelly. Which didn’t do a damn thing to make her journey up the stairs to the back deck any easier, especially not with the man’s arm secured around her neck.
“Miss Madison?” Captain Harry’s posh accent drifted around the corner. “Do you want me to pack a box with foodstuffs, or would you prefer—”
“Run! Lock yourself in the engine room!” Maddy screamed. A sweaty hand clamped over her mouth, and her kidney took another blow from the barrel of her captor’s weapon.
Three of the gunmen raced passed her before Captain Harry could act on her shrieked instructions. They grabbed the captain by his arm and yanked him into view. Harry’s eyes popped out of his head and his face flashed florid when he realized a couple of brutal-looking machine guns were aimed under his jaw.
“How many more on boat?” the man behind her asked, removing his hand from her mouth to once more snake his hairy arm around her abused throat. She could taste the sweat clinging to her lips. The sweat and the grime. It took everything she had not to double over and retch like the time she was four and her mama had dosed her with ipecac after she’d gotten into the bathroom cleaner beneath the sink.
Instead, she gritted her teeth and shook her head, refusing to answer. Even though theBlackGoldwas a sturdily built ship, sound traveled far on the water. It was possible Nigel and Bruce had heard her scream and were, even at this moment, making their way to the engine room where they could lock themselves behind the heavy steel door and use the satellite phone down there to alert the authorities to their…er… she supposed this was a hijacking? And if that was the case, she was determined to give the two crewmen as much time as she could.
“How many!” the man bellowed, smacking her upside the head with the heel of his hand and causing stars to dance before her eyes. “Talk, bitch!”Bam!Another blow had the stars going supernova. The only thing that kept her from stumbling sideways was the fact that he had her in a choke hold.
“Two!” Captain Harry answered for her, his voice raspy and broken. “There are two belowdecks. Please don’t hurt her!”
More, Maddy couldn’t help but think. Hurt hermore. Because she’d already sustained a blow to the throat and two to the head. The thought of suffering more abuse at the hands of these vile men should have filled her with paralyzing fear. But she’d often been accused, usually by her brothers, of having more balls than brains. Which meant the fear sheshouldbe feeling was replaced by boiling rage.
Chapter Five
12:24 p.m.…
“Never thought we’d be doingthisagain,” Wolf said.
Bran Pallidino glanced across the table bolted in the middle of the computer room aboardWayfarer-Ito find Wolf checking the firing mechanism on his M4 rifle. They’d each taken one of the sawguns with them when they waved sayonara to the Navy. And even though,technically, they were supposed to return Uncle Sam’s hardware—after all, there was a law against civilians owning full automatics—their commander had understood their desire to keep the Colts that’d put a whole hell of a lot of rounds downrange.
