Against the Tide (32 page)

“Is Cain by himself?”

Heng looked down at the barrel of the gun. “He's with our inside man. His . . . his name is Yousef. He rigged the explosives on the ship.”

Noah's jaw went iron hard. “Which ship?”

“The
San Pascual.
”

Noah looked at Derek, who had his pistol trained on the Arab. “You got this?”

“I got it.”

“You can make your call on the way,” Noah said to Rafe. “Let's go.” They started running back the way they'd come. Rafe phoned Liv, who answered on the first ring. “Don't shoot, we're coming in.”

A few seconds later, they reached the pickup. “You drive,” Rafe said to Noah. “I'll call the cops.” Noah slid in behind the wheel and Rafe jammed into the passenger seat, forcing Olivia into the middle.

“I heard a shot,” she said as Noah cranked the engine. “What . . . what happened?”

“We stopped them from blowing up the terminal but the big guy wasn't with them. Darius Cain. We need to find him.”

Noah shoved the truck into gear, and they took off down the dirt lane back toward Dayville Road. Rafe had his cell in his hand when it started playing. He wasn't sure the Coast Guard song would ever bring the good memories it had before. He checked the screen, saw Sam King's name, figured it might be important.

“It's a bad time, Sam.”

“Somebody blew up the packing plant, Rafe. There's cops all over the place.”

His fingers tightened around the phone. “Tell them it's a diversion and there may be more. Tell them the pipeline terminal is rigged with explosives.” He gave the location of the Jeep, off the road near Allison Creek, and told them Derek Hunter was there guarding the men. “Make sure you get word to Chief Rosen. Do it now, Sam.”

“You got it.”

As the pickup flew down the highway, Rafe turned to Liv. “They blew up the fish-packing plant. Sam King is calling the cops, bringing them up to speed, but I'm guessing they're up to their necks in their own problems at the moment.”

Noah pointed toward the water. “Out there. That's the pickup boat.”

“The turnout's around the corner,” Rafe said as they headed toward the wide spot in the road.

A few seconds later, Noah jammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a sliding stop in the grass and shrubs on the opposite side of the lane, hidden out of sight. The men's attention was fixed on the light of the boat approaching the turnout.

Both doors swung open and Rafe turned back to Liv. “Get down and stay out of sight. Keep your gun out.”

Before she could argue, he hauled her down off the bench seat onto the floor of the truck, then he and Noah started running.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Rafe and Noah slowed their pace as they neared the turnout on the opposite side of the road. Crouched low and moving quietly through the grass, Rafe followed Noah toward the parked vehicle. Two men stood in front of the hood, staring at the boat moving toward them across the water.

Thirty-footer, Rafe guessed, heading for shore at about ten knots. He couldn't tell how many men were aboard. At least two shadowy figures, maybe more.

Noah pointed to the right and Rafe eased off in that direction. The .45 felt comfortable in his hand. His second weapon, Noah's borrowed semiauto, was holstered behind his back. The mountain side of the road opposite the water was lined with thick shrubs, trees, and foliage, making it easy for them to stay undercover. Trouble was, it was open between there and the ocean side of the road, where the men were parked.

Noah slid into position behind a boulder at the edge of the mountain, while Rafe moved behind a telephone pole.

“Put your hands in the air!” Noah shouted. “Do it now!” Instead, both men whirled and pulled their weapons, ripped off a barrage of bullets that had Noah ducking behind the boulder and Rafe jerking back out of sight. A bullet slammed into the pole beside his head and chips of wood when flying. He pulled off a couple of quick rounds, Noah fired a double tap, then another. Rafe squeezed off two shots, which pinged loudly off the side of the car, the same brown Chevy beater he had seen the day Olivia was attacked.

One question answered. Not a hit man from D.C.

Using the car for cover, the two gunmen fired round after round. They didn't seem worried about running out of ammo. Rafe fired off a barrage and so did Noah. No way could they step out into the open.

More shots were fired. One of the gunmen took off running. Noah cracked off a round that hit him from behind and knocked him forward a couple paces before he landed flat on his face. He was shouting obscenities, and though only part of them were in English, Rafe understood where the man had been hit.

He almost smiled.

“Toss your weapon!” Noah shouted. The man sent his pistol flying sideways and stretched out facedown on the ground. There was only one shooter left across the road. Rafe laid down cover fire as Noah ran toward the man on the ground. The other man must have dropped over the embankment and slipped out of sight along the edge of the water.

The Chevy wasn't going anywhere now that Noah was there. The pickup was the only other means of escape. Rafe felt a jolt of fear, followed by a shot of adrenaline. He signaled to Noah and started running back toward his truck.

 

 

Olivia crouched on the floor on the passenger side of the pickup. Gunshots sounded in the distance. Short bursts, then return fire, another short burst, and then another.

She wanted to put her hands over her ears to block the sound, block the thought that Rafe or Noah might be killed. Instead, she steadied herself, held the cell phone against her ear and listened to the dispatcher's steady voice.

Sam had already called the police, but she and Rafe were the ones who had talked to Chief Rosen. As soon as the men had left, she had phoned to be sure the cops understood what was going on.

“Olivia, are you still there?” the dispatcher asked.

“I'm here.”

“Chief Rosen can't be reached. I've got officers on the way. Just stay on the line.”

“I've got to talk to him. It's a matter of life and death.” She had already given her location, a spot on Dayville Road near the turnout closest to the pipeline terminal. She had told the female dispatcher that men had tried to blow it up. Some of them had escaped and were shooting, and she and the two men with her needed help.

She was still holding for Rosen when the driver's-side door burst open and the big, light-skinned African American who had tried to rape her slid in behind the steering wheel.

A lecherous smile curved his lips. “Hello, Fiona.”

Olivia's heart jerked, but she didn't hesitate. The phone dropped out of her hand as she grabbed the revolver off the seat, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

Shock and fury widened Cain's black eyes. “You bitch!” He clutched the bullet wound in his shoulder. “I'll fucking kill you!”

“Move an inch and I'll shoot you dead. I swear it.” Her palms were sweating but she held the pistol steady, gripped in both hands as she had been taught. She was shaky, but in control. Olivia eased up onto the seat across from him.

Blood oozed between Cain's fingers. Pure evil stared at her out of his black eyes. Icy calm settled over him. “You shot me,” he said. “I'm no threat to you now. It'd be smart if you just let me go. They bring me in, I'll tell them who you are and what you did. Let me drive out of here and I won't say a word.”

Her mouth tightened. “Maybe I should just pull the trigger. You can't talk if you aren't breathing.”

A smile lifted his lips. “If you were gonna kill me, lady, you'd already a done it.”

“I'm warning you.” When he didn't say more, she risked a glance through the windshield in search of Rafe. She wasn't prepared for the sudden movement, the leap of Cain's big body over hers. Olivia screamed as the pistol fired and went flying. She started fighting, hitting Cain as hard as she could, trying to shove him off her.

The next thing she knew, Rafe was dragging the man out of the pickup, spinning him around and smashing a fist into his face. Cain fought back and the two of them struggled. Olivia searched wildly for the pistol, but it must have flown out of the truck.

Heart pounding, she jumped down from the pickup and ran to where the men battered each other back and forth, rolling around on the ground, first Cain on top, then Rafe. Cain was bigger, heavier through the chest and shoulders, but he was injured. Both were swinging powerhouse punches, Rafe's tinged with a fury that seemed to give him an edge.

Cain was on top one minute, then Rafe rolled him onto his back and came up over him, started punching Cain in the face, hitting him hard. Rafe rocked to his feet, grabbed Cain's shirt and dragged him up off the ground, hit him again, drew back and punched him so hard his head bobbed uselessly at the end of his neck.

“Rafe!” Liv called out. “He's unconscious! You'll kill him!”

The way his fist shook with the effort not to punch the man again told her how much he wanted to do just that.

Rafe let go of the front of Cain's bloody shirt, and Cain sank like a stone onto the ground. Reaching into his tactical vest, Rafe pulled out a plastic tie, rolled Cain over and used it to bind his hands behind his back, another to bind his ankles; then he stood up and strode toward her. He didn't stop until he reached her, pulled her into his arms.

Olivia started trembling.

“I've got you,” Rafe said, his cheek pressed against her hair. “It's over. Everything's going to be okay.”

She wanted to cry. Just let go the way she had before when he had been holding her this way. Her heart was still hammering and her throat felt tight. With a shaky breath, she pulled herself together, but she didn't move out of his arms.

“Noah?” she asked, looking up at him.

“He's coming in now.” Rafe tipped his head toward the two men walking back to the pickup, the gunman in front, hands bound together, Noah behind him, his gun pointed at his captive's back.

Rafe eased away from Liv enough to pull out his cell and call the police. She couldn't hear what was being said on the other end of the line, but it sounded as if he was having better luck than she'd had. He was nodding, seemed relieved when he ended the call.

“What about the boat?” Liv asked as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“Coast Guard's on its way. They spotted the boat. They'll pick the men up and bring them in.”

“We need to call an ambulance for Cain.”

His dark eyes softened as he looked in her face. Cain knew her secrets. It was all going to come out.

“Noah called. Ambulance is on its way. Good ol' Yousef took a bullet in the ass as he was trying to escape.”

“You didn't—”

“Noah doesn't like terrorists.”

At the
whop, whop, whop
of helicopters moving toward them overhead, Olivia looked up, saw a pair of dark spots traveling low through the night.

“Looks like the good guys are here,” Rafe said. “I don't know where they came from, but I'm damned glad to see them.”

Noah walked up just then, shoved his prisoner down on the grass next to Cain. Police vehicles began roaring up and slamming on their brakes. Officers streamed out all four doors.

One of the choppers set down in the turnout and men with FBI tactical vests jumped down from inside. The other helicopter kept going, heading, Liv presumed, for the spot where Derek was waiting. A man walked toward them, bulky, with silver-touched brown hair.

“Special Agent Charlie Farrell.” Farrell extended a hand to Rafe. “I'm a friend of Nick's.”

They shook. “Nick's brother, Rafe. Nice to meet you. This is Olivia Chandler and Noah Devlin. Glad you could make it. How's it happen you're here?”

“Nick tracked me down. Some kid named Zach sent him another batch of surveillance photos off the cameras at the local motel. We knew about Heng. Facial recognition identified the second man as Mikal Nadir. Nadir's an Iraqi national living in Detroit. Lately, he's been popping up on some of the watch lists. The coincidence of him and Heng traveling together to a primary target like Valdez was enough to convince the Bureau to take another look.”

Thank God they had, Liv thought. Another siren cut through the night. An ambulance roared up, and EMTs jumped out, rounded the vehicle, and threw open the doors at the rear. Liv watched them go to work on the injured men on the ground.

She only glanced at Cain once. The look of pure hatred in his face told her he would do everything in his power to destroy her.

Olivia shivered. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. It was only a matter of time now. Her days as Liv Chandler were over.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Cops everywhere. FBI. Questions asked, statements taken. The injured men were transported to the hospital.

One thing she knew. When she'd fired that bullet through Darius Cain's shoulder instead of his heart, she had made an irreversible decision.

It was time for her to run.

 

 

The sun was coming up by the time Rafe pulled his pickup into the garage. Noah and Derek drove in beside him. The men would be leaving that morning unless there were follow-up questions. Rafe told them they could stay as long as they needed. He could spend his nights with Liv above the café.

Rafe dropped her at the Pelican just before noon. Though both of them were exhausted, they had businesses to run. With the town in an uproar over the averted attack, media and law enforcement everywhere, they needed to keep an eye on things.

The good news was, a second bomb location, given up by Lee Heng, hadn't exploded. It was set to blow up the Fisherman's Catch Saloon, but apparently the timer was faulty. Rafe didn't want to think how many people could have been killed if the bomb had gone off as the men had planned.

Things in Valdez were under control. His big worry now was Olivia. Darius Cain was in the hospital, soon to be released into FBI custody. Rafe had no idea how much he had told the police, but if he hadn't already turned Olivia in, there was no doubt, sooner or later, he would.

It was a hole card he would play whenever it gained him the most. Rafe had talked to Liv about it as they'd drunk coffee before he'd taken her to work.

“While you were in the shower,” Rafe said, “I spoke to my brother Dylan. Dylan called his attorney friend, Peter Keller, and filled him in. I talked to Peter a few minutes ago. He's flying down from Anchorage, Liv. He's agreed to represent you.”

She just looked at him. Then she nodded. “Thank you.”

He didn't like whatever it was that moved across her features, but he figured with everything that had happened, he needed to cut her some slack.

“I've got to go to work,” she said, setting her coffee mug on the table. “We can talk about it tonight, okay?”

“You're working all day?”

“I've got to. Everything's been a mess since Scotty died. I need to get things straightened out.”
Before the police arrest me
were her unspoken words.

Rafe's chest tightened. It was true, and both of them knew it. The police wouldn't have any choice.

“Which reminds me,” he said. “I need to talk to Rosen. I figure by now he knows Darius Cain killed Scotty, not Chip Reed. But I want to make sure.”

She smiled at him softly, and he saw that flicker of emotion again. He wished he knew what it was.

“It's good to know we accomplished what we set out to do,” she said. “We caught Scotty's killer.”

“Maybe Cassie will finally be able to move on with her life.”

“I hope so.”

He left Liv at work and headed back home. He called Chief Rosen and they talked about Chip Reed. Rosen was on the same page. Reed had already been released. Next Rafe made arrangements for the passengers on the rest of the charters he had booked that summer. Some people he could move onto
Sea Dragon
or
Sea Devil
, but the balance required booking with another charter company.

Once things quieted down, he'd begin looking for another boat. Which could take a while, since he wasn't going to settle for less than he'd had before.