“Dammit, Emma, just give me the bag,” Jonathan demanded again.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I threw it overboard.”
“You what?” Jonathan said as he lunged toward Emma.
Cap flew down from the wheelhouse and pushed his way in between the two of them. He tucked Emma behind him and placed his palm on the angry man’s chest, hard. The other three women and Preston stared at them wide-eyed.
“Why are you so angry? It’s just a bag of fishing equipment,” Emma asked.
Her voice shook, and he could feel her trembling behind him, but he didn’t look at her because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the overly-angry man.
“Son of a bitch!” Jonathan yelled as he pulled away from Cap and paced the deck.
Cap turned to look at Emma. “Tell me you didn’t throw something off my boat.”
Her nod came slowly, and she averted his gaze.
“That’s illegal, you know,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s just…”
“No, just stop. There’s no excuse. I knew this charter was going to be trouble.”
Jonathan stopped pacing and stood statue still. Slowly, he turned to face him. His face drained of color.
“Trouble is too mild a word for what is about to happen,” Jonathan said.
Dread coiled in the pit of Cap’s stomach, and he feared asking the looming question. “What is really in the bag?”
Jonathan just stared at him.
Memories of his drug investigator days bombarded his brain, and his instincts now told him that the bag was not full of fishing equipment as Emma probably thought it was. Jonathan planned to use this charter as a drug drop.
His brain flew into drug investigator mode as if it hadn’t been over a year since he’d worked in that field. Did the man standing before him have a weapon? Judging from the cargo shorts he wore, it was possible he could conceal a weapon. Cap had one too, but it was locked away in the cabin. That seemed pretty dumb right now, but in all his time as a charter captain, he’d never needed a weapon.
“Preston, radio the Coast Guard and Sturgeon Bay Police Department. Get them here now. We have a drug drop about to happen,” Cap instructed his first mate without taking his eyes off Jonathan.
Preston moved forward.
Jonathan grabbed him by the shirt and flung him back.
The kid fell, smacking his head hard on the side of the boat.
Cap tackled Jonathan.
Chaos exploded.
“Stop! Please stop fighting!” Emma demanded.
Until Jonathan was subdued, he couldn’t stop.
“Preston isn’t moving,” one of the other ladies cried out.
Jonathan’s fist caught Cap’s cheekbone. White-hot pain flared. He hadn’t expected that out of this city slicker, but then again, the man was fighting for his life. If he didn’t produce the drugs he’d promised, there would be hell to pay. Possibly on both sides, the supplier and the receiver.
