Chances (Mystic Nights #1) (21 page)

She remained mute. The man’s sense of entitlement knew no bounds.

“My people!” Such sarcasm. Such disgust. “My people should have joined the eastern tribe when they were given the chance all those years ago. But no, the elders wanted to keep their own reserve, their own cultural diversity. Bullshit! Climb on,” he ordered as they reached his boat. She did as she was told. “Diversity. That’s such a load of crap. We are the same fucking tribe. We should have been profiting from Foxwoods and Mohegan’s. Not living on some God damned government handouts for another two decades.”

Her hope was nearly gone. “But Mystic Nights is doing well now.” She was grasping at straws. Anything. “We will start to reap the benefits soon.”

“We won’t see anything for another five years. I’ll be an old fucking man. You know how the state, the federal government is. The taxes are taking it all in these initial years. Interest to the Malaysians.” She heard him crawl in behind her and then they were both standing on the deck of his boat.

He turned her to face him. “But we will, eventually . . .”

“Shut the fuck up,” he screamed into her face as he reached down to open the hatch. “And get the fuck down below. We need to be going. Now!” His rage was up once more.

Aliya quickly scrambled down the short ladder. He came down behind her too quick for her to get her bearings. To look for something to protect herself with, to protect the baby. For every step he took, she took one backwards. The hatred in his eyes as he glared at her was more apparent than ever. “I ran this damn reserve. Without me the Sassacus’s were nothing.” He saw her hands fly over to cover her belly. “Go ahead and hold your belly. Try to keep that little bastard inside you. For now,” he threatened as her knees buckled when she reached the bed inside the small cabin. “Now lie down, like a good girl. I need to tie you up while I get the boat under way.” He produced some cords from God knows where. Probably had grabbed them off of one of the hooks in the cabin as he passed it. “We have a long ride ahead of us. But, I’ll keep you around a bit longer. You might be good for a fuck or two, though God knows what diseases a slut like you might have.” Aliya shuddered as Peter began to tie her hands together, and then tethered them to an eye bolt over her head. As he tied her feet and tethered them as well, he added his final words before leaving her alone below deck. “I doubt it. But I might let you live.” He paused as he examined her body. She saw his interest, but the look faded when it passed over her stomach. “But that bastard child you’re carrying. The baby. No. This world does not need another fucking Sassacus bastard.” Aliya tried to twist away from his cold glare. But he didn’t see it. He had already turned, and headed back to the ladder, back up top. It was less than thirty seconds later she felt the hum of the motor, and then the boat began to move.

And, all Aliya could think of that was possible to do, was to cry and pray. She was in trouble. The baby was in trouble, and she couldn’t think of a way out.

‡

J
onathan was frantic.
He’d called Aliya’s parents upon leaving the casino to ascertain if they had knowledge of her whereabouts. He was lucky he’d only spoken to her mother, although he’d heard plenty from her father as he was more than willing to offer his input, loudly, behind the mother. Neither was happy with Jonathan at the moment when he’d explained what was occurring. He accepted the blame for putting their daughter in this dangerous situation.

Her mother suggested a few friends she may have called and he repeated the numbers out loud, so that Joseph and Tom could jot them down and began making calls. But the longer he listened to her mother, the more he began to worry about Aliya. He was almost sure something was wrong. His gut told him.

“He better find her,” he heard Aliya’s father threaten. “I can’t imagine what she must be feeling. If Peter has her . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Henry Houston suggested the boat house. Peter has a boat and a small boat house by the marina.” Jim called out. He was on the phone with one of her friend’s, a dancer she hung out with from time to time. Shit! He should have thought of that. Peter had offered to take him out on his boat a few times. He’d always been too busy. And he’d never been able to fathom the thought of forming a friendship with the older man.

“The boat house. The marina,” he called to the driver whose name was Sigmund, another member of his security team.

“Please find her, Jonathan. She had nothing to do with whatever Peter has been doing. She loves you. You can work this out.”

“I will,” he promised and heard her father murmur more threats as his stomach plummeted. It seemed his loss of faith in Aliya had been not only presumptuous, but unfounded. He hoped she could forgive him. They were not far from the marina. Maybe a mile. And Sigmund was an excellent driver. He drove around other cars quickly, yet safely as he careened around the last two turns. Jonathan hung up the phone, promising he would do everything within his power to find their daughter.

He just hoped he could keep that promise. For Aliya. For their baby, if she was truly pregnant as she suspected.

Both men shook their heads and hung up their phones. “That was Julia. She’s a friend and her gynecologist. She said she talked to her this morning. Aliya made an appointment with her this afternoon for later during the week, and said she took a home pregnancy test. She is pregnant,” Joseph said.

Blackness settled in him like a curtain. The guilt ate at his heart. His rashness had put both her and their child in danger. When they made the final turn onto the road that led to the parking area by the harbor, they saw Aliya’s car, and Peter’s.

Jonathan felt ill. He glanced at the dock, but did not know which boat was Peter’s. He prayed they were still in the cabin, and that he could get to her in time. But when Tom spoke next, his fears grew tenfold.

“His boat is gone, sir. It’s called Proud Penny. I don’t see her.”

“Let’s go to the cabin. See if we can find any clues. Call the police. And the harbor master,” he ground out as Sigmund made yet another sharp turn. “We need to find out where he’s going. Where he’s taking her? We also need a boat.”

‡

A
quick scan
of the cabin, which Tom had gotten them into hastily, revealed nothing. A beefy shoulder to the flimsy door really did work. Especially if you were the size of a line backer.

Joseph went straight to the computer, and began to fiddle with the history. He pulled up the last few pages Peter was looking at. “He ordered his boat fueled and lots of extra fuel to be put on deck an hour ago. He also was on several sites that I can’t access without passwords, looks like bank sites for the Bahamas.” He got quiet as he pulled up some other pages. Jonathan and Tom came up behind him. “Yes, the Bahamas. Here are some maps, seems he sent the coordinates to his navigation system on the boat.”

“I need that boat.” Jonathan slammed his fist into the wall. He didn’t even feel the pain.

“I will call the coast guard.” Joseph murmured. “These search histories are over an hour old.”

“Fuck, we can’t wait that long. I need a boat now,” Jonathan demanded again, looking to Tom while rubbing his fist that cracked the plaster on the wall of the old fishing cottage.

“We can see the harbor master. See if we can rent something. Start at least until the coast guard comes in.” Jonathan was already hustling out the door before Tom even finished with his suggestion.

They jumped into the vehicle, Sigmund given the order, and flew the quarter mile to the old man’s office at the beginning of the pier.

“Yeah, I filled it myself.” The old man rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “He ordered it on line, and I did it right away. I filled all the reserve tanks, and the extra fuel would definitely take him where you think he’s headed, especially if he uses wind power too.”

“You got a boat for us? And someone to captain it? It’s an emergency?”

“I guess I can go. I was heading out for the day and tomorrow’s my day off.”

Jonathan was immediately grateful. “Then let’s go.” He felt deep down inside his bones that time was running out. Time he didn’t have.

His heart sank at the captain’s next words. “I’ve got to fuel it though. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes at the least.”

“Hurry. Please.” He was desperate. The harbor master headed out, and Jonathan began to pace. Joseph and Tom exchanged looks, and both knew if they didn’t get going soon all might be lost. And that meant Jonathan, too.

‡

B
y the time
Captain Matthews, the harbor master, finished fueling his boat, the coast guard had radioed in that they would arrive within twenty minutes. Though it wasn’t easy, Joseph convinced his impatient and on edge brother to wait for their assistance. The Coast Guard cutter would be faster than the captain’s boat anyhow. A water transfer later would only delay them. They headed back to Peter’s cabin to await the police.

The Coast Guard would not only have a faster boat, but more resources and equipment than the captain’s vessel and would be a wiser choice. They would need as much help as they could get to deal with Peter when they caught up to him. And they would, Jonathan told himself. If the man felt cornered, he could do something drastic. But the waiting was still killing him.

The police arrived at the cabin just as they did. And they came up with the same conclusions that Joseph had. One of the officers spoke up. “See, he sent himself the coordinates from this PC to his navigation system on the Penny. He is heading to Nassau. And yup, we have a hit on some wire transfers between accounts in New Providence. Two accounts. Don’t know how much he got. We don’t have passwords, but we can work on that. With kidnapping now a charge, the FBI can put pressure on them to release the information. I’m not sure you will be able to recover the funds though. That will be tricky.”

“I don’t care about the fucking money.” And he didn’t. It was Aliya he cared about, and their baby. Jonathan was pacing. By now it had been nearly two hours since the harbor master estimated that Peter had fled. And the Coast Guard was running late. They should have arrived five minutes ago.

Behind him, another officer looking through a closet called over to his superiors. “Found a safe. It’s open. His passport is gone. But, Aliya’s purse is inside.”

Jonathan’s heart sunk even more, if that were possible. If Peter hadn’t brought Aliya’s identification with them, how could she enter the country? That could only mean one thing. She wouldn’t be arriving with him. “Fuck,” he screamed. “Where is the damn Coast Guard?”

Joseph put a steadying hand on his brother’s shoulder to calm him. “They’ll get here. They’ll get here. Calm down.” He didn’t want his brother to fly into another rage. He didn’t think another hit to the wall was what any of them needed right then. Calmer heads needed to prevail.

But Jonathan’s fear and anger made him push his brother away. “Calm down! He didn’t bring her ID. That means he obviously does not plan on taking her all the way. Those are god forsaken shark infested waters. If he dumps her, it will be liking looking for a needle in a haystack.” His mind began to envision all kinds of horrible scenarios. He was at the end of his rope.