A Question of Honor (21 page)

A sheen of perspiration showed on Noah’s hardened features as he studied the map with fierce intensity. Kit realized timing was critical to capturing the
Marie-Elise
and the drug dealers like fish in a net. A shiver shot down her spine and she tried to throw off the cape of dread that settled around her drawn shoulders.

“It’s going to be vital that Kit be able to find Garcia,” Cordeman said. “With the shallow waters, I’m positive that the bastard will be aboard a smaller boat.”

Straightening, Noah studied Kit. “The
Guayama
is already alongside. We’ll transfer you and Barnes now, and then Henri Galera, the DEA agent, will take you into the bay. After you’re in there, we’ll wait until he calls us to take our position to trap all of them.”

“Fine,” Kit said. She told the crew on the bridge goodbye, and then Noah took her arm, leading her to the lower deck.

Like everyone else, Kit wore a flak jacket and a shoulder holster. The sun had just peeked over the horizon, sending shafts of glaring light across the choppy waters. The tension she felt in Noah put her on edge.

“It will be over soon,” she told him.

“No one’s happier about it than me,” he confided. Stopping at the ladder, he pointed toward a small tug that bobbed beside them. “The
Guayama
.”

The small boat was nothing more than a rusty scow sitting high in the water. Kit saw a black man at the wheel, who waved up at them. “Not much to it, is there?”

“No.” Noah turned Kit around, his hands on her shoulders. He didn’t give a damn who saw them at that instant. Fear hovered around him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling. He wasn’t sure if it was for him or Kit. “Listen, you be damn careful, Kitten,” he rasped, holding her gaze.

“I’ll be very careful, darling.”

His face relaxed slightly. He couldn’t kiss her. He couldn’t tell her he loved her—yet. There was a slight tremble to his voice. “Stay safe. We’ve got everything to live for.”

Barnes came walking up. Kit couldn’t hide her disappointment. She had wanted to kiss Noah one last time. But that was impossible now. “I’ll see you when this is all over, Noah. Please,
you
be careful.”

Releasing her arms, Noah stepped back. He gave her a warm smile meant only for her. “Very careful, Kitten.”

Turning away, Kit stepped distractedly down the steel ladder and took Galera’s waiting hand.

“Welcome aboard, Detective Anderson.”

Kit stepped aside, allowing Barnes to board. “Thank you, Henri.” Her eyes lifted upward, and she saw Noah standing far above them, silhouetted by the growing light, his face grim. Anguish overwhelmed Kit. Out of habit, she touched her stomach. Was it because she was pregnant that she was more fearful than usual? Dread stalked her. Every time she felt that ugly sensation crawling through her, it meant danger.

“Cast off!” Galera ordered Barnes, who released the lines to the
Osprey
.

A lump formed in Kit’s throat. She raised her hand. Noah raised his in return. Tears blurred his stalwart figure and Kit turned away, no longer able to stand the pain of their separation. Heading to the bridge, where Galera was, Kit wanted to focus all her attention on the forthcoming bust. Her life, the life of her baby and Noah’s, depended on it.

“There they are,” Henri said grimly as they moved into the shallow cove.

The
Marie-Elise
was anchored as close to the shoreline as possible, lying heavy in the water. Clusters of boats bobbed next to one another at the ship’s starboard side as huge bales of marijuana were crane-hoisted onto the smaller ones.

Kit counted at least fifty smaller boats in the cove. Taking the binoculars, she began to scan the
Marie-Elise
. She heard Henri make a call to alert both Coast Guard cutters to come in and close off escape from the bay. In half an hour they would arrive on station, and then all hell would break loose.

“Man, they’re doing a booming business,” Henri said with a chuckle. His skin glistened with perspiration.

People in ragtag outfits of gaily colored shirts and jeans were running up and down metal stairs at the bottom of the loading platform of the
Marie-Elise
. “I don’t see Garcia or Dante,” Kit muttered. As soon as one boat was loaded, another zipped up to take its place. Her heart pounded with anxiety as she continued to make a slow, thorough appraisal of each boat near the mother ship. Where were they? She saw flags of all nationalities being flown.

Henri glanced at his watch. “In ten minutes the Coast Guard will be on station,” he warned, maneuvering the chugging tug toward the beach to get a closer look at another group of boats anchored there. “Take a look at this next bunch, Kit.”

She swung her binoculars toward the shore. There were more than thirty sleek inboard cruisers, beat-up rusty tubs and yachts huddled together, all waiting their turn to get the bales. Could she spot Garcia and Dante before the Coast Guard closed off the cove? Tension thrummed through her as she frantically searched each boat in turn.

“Five more minutes,” Henri warned, “before these boats split like a flock of startled birds. The moment they see the Coast Guard, they’re gonna panic.” He gave the wooden wheel a hefty turn, urging the
Guayama
around so that the bow was aimed at the mother ship.

Kit glanced up; the shore was no more than fifty feet away from them.

Barnes crowded in on the bridge, unholstering his revolver and releasing the safety. “Man, this is going to be a mess in a few minutes. Where are all these boats going to go when they find out they’re all trapped?”

Chortling, Galera asked, “You ever seen druggies walk on water?”

Kit grinned sickly, continuing to rapidly scan the boats. Suddenly her heart thudded. “Oh, my God!” she breathed. “It’s them. Garcia! And Dante!”

“Where?” Henri demanded.

“Over there,” Kit said, pointing. “That red-and-white charter boat about two hundred yards east of us.” Her throat ached with renewed fear as Barnes took the binoculars.

Henri grabbed the microphone, calling the
Osprey
and
Sea Eagle
, giving them a clear description of the boat. Kit listened in stunned silence, watching the boat. Her pulse was strong, her heart beating wildly in her breast.

“They’re sitting on two-hundred-fifty horsepower of boat,” Barnes growled, lowering the binoculars.

“They ain’t gonna go anywhere,” Henri said with a booming laugh. He glanced at his watch and then over his shoulder. “They’re here.”

Kit jerked her attention to the only entrance to the cove. Both the Coast Guard vessels had just hoved into view, stationing themselves like a barrier across it. She turned back to the smugglers. Suddenly, without warning, the entire cove rippled with fear. Kit saw smugglers sprint into action as soon as they saw the
Osprey
and
Sea Eagle
. Shouting and cursing filled the air. It was as if a huge tidal wave had smashed through the cove. Boats fled in all directions.

All her attention was riveted on the red-and-white boat. Suddenly the huge, thunderous engines roared to life, water foaming and swirling madly around the rear of the boat. From the corner of her eye, Kit saw four other DEA boats of varying sizes, shapes and power closing in on Garcia to cut him off and surround him. Henri thrust the two throttles forward, causing the little
Guayama
to leap ahead with surprising adroitness. They were closing the net around Garcia.

Barnes cursed and gripped Kit’s shoulder. “Look out!” he screamed. “He’s trying to escape!”

Kit’s lips parted, a cry lurching from her throat. In the blinding split seconds that followed, the red-and-white monster of a boat careened wildly, its bow pointed directly at the
Guayama
, which blocked its only remaining route of escape.

The snarl of engines and the sudden crunching sound of bows meeting, folding and cracking shattered the air. Kit was thrown heavily against Barnes, who was slammed into the rear bulkhead. The explosion that followed punctured the cove like an artillery barrage.

Kit remembered wave after wave of broiling heat from the explosion, screams, then the smell of diesel fuel in the air. She crawled to her hands and knees, blood dribbling from her nose and mouth. Water rushed into the destroyed bridge of the listing
Guayama
. Blindly she reached out, gripping Barnes’s limp arm. She yelled at him, realizing in her dazed condition that he was unconscious.

Staggering to her feet, Kit turned. Nausea overwhelmed her and she jerked her head away, unable to cope with the grisly scene that met her eyes. Henri was dead. But Barnes was still alive. Kit heard gunshots all around them, ignored the angry firing and dragged the agent off the bridge and onto the deck of the sinking
Guayama
.

Barnes revived just in time. Kit stared disbelievingly as diesel fuel and fire raced across the surface around the two wrecked boats. She gasped for breath, realizing that several people were flailing nearby in the water, all of them heading for shore to escape.

“Come on!” she begged Barnes. She jerked his arm, and they both jumped overboard.

The water was surprisingly warm, and Kit coughed wildly, floundering toward shore. The heavy flak jacket weighed her down, and she swallowed water as she struggled to stay afloat. Barnes was having equal trouble. They touched bottom minutes later.

Kit’s hair hung limply around her face as she staggered toward the beach, Barnes weaving unsteadily on his feet in front of her.

“Kit!” Barnes screamed in warning.

Automatically Kit flattened, throwing herself into the shallow water as the crack of a gun sounded very close to her. Barnes was thrown backward into the water, a red stain moving across his head. Kit rolled on her side, fumbling to unsnap the revolver that rested beneath her left armpit.

“Hold it!” a voice snarled.

Her hand froze on the gun and Kit looked up. Into the viperous eyes of Emilio Dante.

Chapter Twelve

C
ordeman was the first to discover what had occurred. It had been one of the many messages coming across the bridge of the
Osprey
. He had seen the two boats collide close to shore and heard the resulting earsplitting explosion. Moving with unaccustomed quickness, Cordeman got a ride on another DEA decoy boat and made it over to the
Marie-Elise
to locate Noah and his boarding crew.

Cordeman found Trayhern, his face blackened by grime and sweat, down in the hold. He grabbed Noah’s arm and jerked him around to get his full attention. The roar of several fire hoses and shouts of the men directing water on the blaze mingled with Cordeman’s raised voice.

“Kit’s in trouble!”

Noah wiped a trail of sweat from his eyes, blinking once. “What?”

Cordeman’s grip tightened. “The boat Kit was on was rammed by Garcia and Dante!”

Noah’s mouth opened and closed. He stared disbelievingly at Cordeman. Everything had happened so fast. The boarding party from the
Osprey
had been the first to engage in gunfire, and he had led the initial attack aboard the bristling mother ship. He pointed toward the hold ladder.

“Get topside so I can hear you,” Noah ordered. He turned, giving orders to Chief Stanton to continue battling the blaze, then quickly climbed the ladder. He took a deep breath of clean air, and his eyes pinned the narc supervisor.

“What the hell are you talking about, Cordeman?”

“We got a call from the
Guayama
seconds before it was rammed. Kit spotted Garcia and Dante on a red-and-white charter boat near them.” He gritted his teeth, watching the officer’s face pale beneath the tan. “I don’t know if they rammed the
Guayama
on purpose or not. Anyway, an agent on one of the other DEA decoy boats watched the whole thing through binoculars. With Galera’s description, he was able to identify Garcia and Dante.”

Noah felt his heart tearing apart inside his chest, and he looked toward shore, where two vessels were still mated and burning from their collision. “No—” he croaked. “No!”

“Get hold of yourself, Trayhern! They saw Kit, Barnes and Dante make it to shore. Dante shot Barnes and he took Kit prisoner.”

Noah tensed and glared toward the scenic beach lined with palm trees. Beyond the grove of palms, the rocky land rose sharply, dotted with gnarled trees and cactus. He swung around.

“He’ll kill her.”

“Not yet. She’s his ticket to safety until he can get to the other side of the hill above us,” Chuck growled. “Come on, let’s get a rescue party together. If Dante reaches some means of safety before we can get to him, he will kill Kit.”

Grimly Noah tightened his lips to a thin line of pain. “What about Garcia?”

“Dead. We just recovered his and Galera’s body from the area of the collision.”

Noah uttered an expletive and moved quickly toward the debarkation area. Cordeman reached out, pulling him to a halt. “Look, there’s one more thing you gotta know before we try to rescue Kit.”

“What?” Noah snarled, tired of Cordeman feeding him bits and pieces of information. All he wanted to do was find Kit. He glared at Cordeman, confused by the look on the man’s sweaty face.

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell you.” He breathed harshly, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. “But things didn’t go right. Trayhern, she’s four months pregnant with your baby.”

Stunned, Noah froze.
Four months pregnant?
Tears welled in his eyes. “When?”

Cordeman swore. “I don’t know what your love life’s like! You answer those questions, dammit. She went to the doctor recently and it was confirmed.” His voice lost its angry tone as he saw the officer’s face turn ashen. “Look,” he went on, “the doc told her she’d have a tough time carrying the baby to full term.” He mopped his brow nervously. “Dammit, what I’m trying to tell you is that even if we’re able to rescue Kit, she still might be in serious danger of a miscarriage!”

Shakily Noah touched his brow, trying to force his crowded, cartwheeling thoughts into some semblance of order. Kit was pregnant with his child! A deluge of joy was shattered by terror for her and the baby’s life. He had to think straight! He could not allow his emotions to get the better of him. “Yeah…okay,” he muttered, forcing himself to think, not feel. “Come on, we’ll get a boarding party together.”