Love Inspired Suspense December 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 (13 page)

“Oh, just in case you think your boyfriend is going to come to your rescue, he won't. He's being taken care of as well as the state trooper. Then people in Port Aurora will learn who really runs the town.” Beau slammed the door as he left, the lock clicking into place.

Leaving Rachel alone.

Devastated.

Hopeless.

* * *

A bullet whizzed by Jake and struck Brad, who cried out. As he collapsed to the floor, Jake dropped down and knocked a metal table onto its side to use as a shield, rolling it to also protect Brad. The shooter was behind a concrete pillar about fifteen yards away.

Mitch jerked on his leash, wanting to do what he had for years. Jake couldn't risk him, even though his K-9's heart was in it. He pointed to Brad and said to Mitch in a low voice, “Lie down. Stay.” When his dog was stretched out beside Brad, guarding him, Jake asked his friend, “Where are you hit?” as he cased out their chances of getting out alive.

Brad moaned. “Ch—est.”

Another shot blasted and splintered the corner of the table by Jake's head, a fragment piercing his cheek. He hoped the assailant was counting on Jake being unarmed since he was on vacation. He contemplated returning fire but wanted to see if the man would do something foolish like rush him.

He peeked around the table and saw a man dressed in a black ski mask dart to the next pillar. Jake still didn't shoot when the assailant came out from behind that protection and raced to the nearest concrete support, forcing Jake to roll the table to the side to shelter Brad, Mitch and him.

Minutes ticked away with only silence from the shooter. Was he playing his own mind game? Jake sneaked a look and noticed a door behind where the assailant was. Did he escape? Would he be coming in another door to take him by surprise?

He needed to know. Jake popped up, taunting the guy to shoot him.

Nothing.

Jake had to get medical help for Brad—fast. He took out his cell and called Randall. Although not totally sure how involved the police were in the drug-smuggling ring, it was a risk he had to take. He needed assistance, or Brad would bleed out. The red splotch on his coat was growing quickly.

“Randall, this is Jake. I'm at the hall at the fishery where the party was last night. Someone shot Brad, and he's bleeding a lot. The shooter may or may not still be here. He was behind the third support pillar from the back on the left side.”

“Be there.”

They needed more protection in case the assailant had escaped and was coming in another door. Jake placed the table where he could rush to the next one and lift it onto its side to be a second shield. He dragged Brad closer to the back exit with Mitch moving beside the fishery owner. As Jake upturned a third table, the shooter leaned out from the pillar and fired several rounds at them. The last bullet grazed his arm. He winced. Ignoring the pain, he focused totally on what he had to do to get them out alive.

This time Jake shot back, and the guy ducked behind the concrete support. After positioning the third table, Jake pulled Brad even closer to the door. Adrenaline pumping, Jake was deciding if he should go for a fourth one when the door on the assailant's side burst open, and the police chief and an officer rushed into the building. While they pinned the shooter down, Jake tugged Brad to the back exit with Mitch beside them. Brad had passed out, and Jake prayed the one ambulance in town was there.

His arm throbbing, Jake opened the door and used his leg to hold it ajar while he hauled Brad the rest of the way out of the building. When Jake straightened, an officer ran toward him, gesturing at the ambulance speeding into the parking lot. The two paramedics jumped out, and one hurried to Brad while the other retrieved the gurney from the back.

Once the paramedics took over, Jake said to Mitch, “Stay,” then headed toward the door, intending to help the police inside.

The officer stopped him. “You're hurt. You need to go with the paramedics, too.”

Jake glanced at his arm, blood on his coat sleeve, but nothing like Brad's. “Not until I'm sure Randall is all right. Who is with him?”

“Officer Bates.”

* * *

When the engine started on the Sundance, Rachel knew her time was ticking down quickly. Once they were away from the harbor and out of sight of land, she would be killed and tossed into the sea. If she didn't die from the bullet, the frigid water would kill her.

The boat began moving. Rachel wiggled off the bunk until she could stand up. She looked out the bank of windows at the front of the trawler. She wasn't giving up. If she could get to the window, maybe somehow she could signal for help. The only way was to hop the ten feet.

Slowly, she jumped toward the windows, but when she was only two feet away, the trawler picked up speed close to the mouth of the harbor. The sudden jerk forward sent her to the floor, her left shoulder slamming into the wooden planks, her head bouncing up then down.

Pain radiated from her arm. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling as the boat accelerated even more.
I was too late
. The thought taunted her with despair.

No, you aren
'
t going to win. I
'
m in God
'
s hands. He
'
s with me
.

She pushed herself to a sitting position and scanned the cabin for any kind of tool to help her untie herself. Once freed she would find a weapon to use. She wasn't going down without a fight.

Using her knees to bear her weight, she bridged the distance to the bunk and plopped her tied hands onto it to assist her up. When she straightened to a stand, she scanned the cabin for anything to help her untie her hands. All she saw was a glass in a holder on the desk. She inched along the bunk toward it, steadying herself when the boat pitched. Her stomach roiled like the waves did. Fighting the nausea, she reached the edge of the desk and used it to move down its length.

The Sundance veered to the right, and Rachel flung herself across the desktop to keep herself upright. Sucking in shallow breaths, she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. The glass was inches away. She rolled partway on her side and reached for it. Her fingertips grasped the lip of the drinking cup and she lifted it from its holder, barely clutched between her two hands, the coarse rope chafing her wrists.

Her chest burned with lack of adequate oxygen. Again the trawler lurched, this time to the left. Rachel slid to the floor, the back of her head hitting the leg of the desk. She heard the glass hit the wooden floor and shatter. For a few seconds she closed her eyes, the nausea rising into her throat.

Lord, I need You
.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to the swaying room. She found the shards of glass and plucked up the largest one to slice her ropes. Back and forth she maneuvered the jagged piece, occasionally its sharp edge slashing into her wrist. The blood flowing from the wounds made it harder to hold the slippery piece of glass, but she couldn't stop.

They were going to kill her if she didn't do something. As she repeated that over and over, she kept working on cutting the ropes about her hands while listening for anyone approaching.

Then the sound of footsteps echoed the warning one of the thugs was coming for her. Were they already far enough from land to kill her? Frantically, she sawed the last part of the twine binding her hands. It fell away, and she hurriedly went to work on the ropes around her ankles. The door handle rattled as though a key were being inserted.

* * *

His Glock in his grip, Jake eased the back door into the hall open and used the rolled tables to sneak forward. The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the cold air. Peeping around his barrier, he assessed the situation, needing to know where the police chief, Officer Bates and the man in the ski mask were. Jake glimpsed Bates coming into the room from the side door near the rear while Randall stood at the far end. In between lay a still body with a black ski mask on, probably shot by the police chief. Bates hurried to the downed perpetrator and felt his pulse.

“Is he alive?” Randall walked toward the shooter on the floor and his officer.

Bates took the gun on the concrete and rose. “Yes.” Then he lifted the assailant's gun and aimed it toward the police chief. Randall halted, his eyes widening.

Jake stood and squeezed off a shot a second before Bates did. The blast resounded through the hall as Randall dove to the left and Bates collapsed to the floor, the gun skidding across the concrete. Jake rushed him as the officer fumbled for his gun holstered at his side.

He made it to Bates a few steps ahead of the police chief. “Don't force me to shoot again.” Jake pointed his Glock at the officer's head.

The ski-masked man on the floor groaned and tried to get up. Randall pushed him down, then rolled him over and removed his black covering. Sean's eyes glared up at the police chief, then connected with Jake's.

Although Jake had told Rachel he suspected everyone until proven innocent, seeing Sean lying on the floor stunned him. Jake felt like he'd been punched in the gut, all air rushing from his lungs. He clenched his jaws together so tightly that pain streaked down his neck.

Sean looked away. “You're gonna regret this,” Sean said through gritted teeth as he clutched the side of his stomach, blood leaking through his fingers.

“I'll call the ambulance to come back for these two and have your officer Clark come in to help you. Then I've got to make sure Rachel, Gramps and Chance are okay. Chance is a state police officer who can assist you in searching the shipping warehouse and processing center.” Jake kept his voice low so no one could overhear him. He was still concerned. Where was Ivan?

Randall frowned. “Why didn't you let me know he was coming?”

Jake pointedly looked at Officer Bates. “I wasn't sure who to trust.” He hurried toward the back door, hoping that Officer Clark was nearby.

The police chief called out, “I've got another man coming. He was on a call outside town.”

As Jake exited the building, the ambulance pulled away with Officer Clark coming toward him. “I need you to call the ambulance back as soon as Brad is dropped off.”

“I heard gunshots, but Chief asked me to stay with Brad until he was safely away from here. Who's hurt?”

“Sean O'Hara and Bates.” Jake refused to acknowledge Bates as part of law enforcement.

Officer Clark tensed. “Is Chief Quay all right? How bad is Bates?”

Jake signaled Mitch to come to him. “Randall is okay, and Bates was hit in the left thigh. He'll survive and go to jail.” The police chief needed help. Jake hoped the rest weren't on the payroll of the drug-smuggling ring.

“What do you mean?” A scowl grooved deep lines in Clark's forehead.

“He tried to kill Chief Quay. I'll let him explain it. How is Brad?”

“The paramedics said it was a through and through in his shoulder. He should be all right once he gets to the clinic.”

“Good. I've got to find Rachel.”

Jake took off in a jog toward the fishery headquarters, hoping she was back in her office. When he reached her office, the vacant room goaded him into searching the whole building. No one he saw knew where Rachel was. Jake, with Mitch beside him, ended his hunt at Brad's office.

His secretary rose when he came into the room. “May I help you?”

“Have you seen Rachel? It's urgent.”

“No. I haven't talked with her this morning.”

“Any suggestions where she could be?”

“She could be anywhere. She flits from one place to the next.” Disapproval dripped from the secretary's words.

“Thanks.” He started to turn away when he heard Mrs. Cohen pull a drawer open. He stopped and swung back as the older woman raised a gun.

* * *

As the lock clicked open, Rachel dove across the bunk for the nearest weapon she could see, binoculars, which she gripped while she scrambled to hide behind the door.

When Captain Martin came into the cabin, Rachel used all her strength and brought the improvised weapon down on the back of his head. For a couple of seconds, he remained standing, and Rachel started to hit him again, but he crumbled to the floor. She quickly closed the door and then checked to see if he was alive. Blood oozed from his wound.

The only rope not cut up was the one around her ankles. She took it and brought his hands behind his back and tied him up. Then she spied a smelly rag and stuffed it into his mouth. She searched his pockets for the key to the cabin, found it and grabbed her boots. After slipping them on and snatching her coat from a chair, she hurried to the door and peeked out into the short hallway. Clear.

Without another thought, she quickly left, locking the cabin, then hurrying to the end of the corridor. If she could get to the life raft on the side of the trawler without being seen, she hoped she could lower it to the water and somehow escape. It was that or remain and be killed. It wasn't the best plan, but she didn't even know if Jake thought she was missing. She would take her chances with the Bering Sea. The water felt calmer than before, but when she emerged outside, she still saw whitecaps from the waves.

She snuck toward the life raft in its white container on the side, keeping an eye on the door to the wheelhouse, where Beau and whoever else was on board probably were. She'd seen a demonstration once a year ago and prayed she remembered how to do it. With one line tied to the railing, she tossed the canister overboard, and when it hit the water, she jerked the painter line two times to inflate the life raft. As it filled with air, Rachel had to wait a couple of minutes, the whole time scanning her surroundings.

From inside she heard a shout. Did someone see her out here? She had to jump now even though the raft wasn't quite blown up. More loud voices came from the wheelhouse, and the door began to open. Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, she leaped over the side, hoping she hit her mark, rather than the ice-cold water. The second she landed in the life raft, she untied the rope and looked up.