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Authors: Jennifer Harlow

Galilee Rising (37 page)

BOOK: Galilee Rising
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Just as the city's landmass is about to fade completely from view over the dark blue horizon, Acevedo lowers the throttle to slow us. I'm guessing our destination is the stopped carrier about a hundred yards away and closing. Even from this far I can tell she's no ordinary shipping boat. There are no containers on the deck with only a few tiny people milling around on deck. It's smaller than a typical freighter too but still enormous, easily the length of three football fields and as tall as a three-story house. As we pull up to its rusting side, a rope ladder falls from the deck. Acevedo hands me the diamonds. "Up."

Hades, I have arrived.

I knot the bag's tie around my wrist and climb up the side of the ship. I make it about five rungs before Acevedo guns the engine again and zooms away, back towards land. So much for stealing the boat to escape. Swimming to shore is out too as my arms ache by the time I reach the deck. A minion has to help me up the last step. When I stand fully erect, I spot a familiar face strolling toward us with a huge grin plastered on his stolen face. He's dressed casually for our showdown in beige chinos, loafers, and black fleece sweatshirt with his dark hair slicked back. "Welcome aboard."

I remove the Bluetooth, and start pressing the transmitter to signal Jem. "What the hell is this? Not that I don't love a good sea voyage, but a plane is a hell of a lot quicker. I can't see you wanting to spend more time with me than you have to. So what the fuck is going on? I thought we had a deal."

"All shall be revealed shortly. This way."

The two goons with machine guns flank me as Jordan leads us toward the metal staircase down into the massive, cavernous and almost empty cargo area. Well empty except for the bomb the size of an SUV sitting center ring with a million wires attached to bricks and bricks of explosives. Sitting on top is a wooden platform and tall metal rod with a circular top that was probably attached to a crane to lower it, complete with small ladders on either side.

My mouth dries up at the sight of this weapon of mass destruction. And of course we stop the tour right beside it. Damn it's two times taller than me. If he's attempting to scare me, it is damn sure working. "Nice bomb."

"Don't worry, it's not primed. Yet. There are also smaller devices planted across the freighter in strategic points. Engine room, hull, etc."

"All for little old me? I'm flattered." I pause. False bravado is the only thing keeping me from crumbling. Just keep it together until Nightingale arrives. "Before we begin what I assume is a re-negotiation of terms, can you please call the police so they can remove the bomb in the hospital?"

"Do you honestly think I'd plant a bomb in a children's ward?" I just glare at him. "Yes, of course, you're right. I did. But fret not. My dear brother is, as we speak, disarming it. I wanted to keep him occupied while we conducted our business. I made it relatively easy. I try not to kill children. Unless I'm paid extra for it."

"Noble. So, can we please just get on with this?" I raise the bag. "I brought your diamonds. Want them now or…what? Are we sailing to another port and a plane will meet us near there?"

"Possibly," he says with amusement.

This garners another glare. "Then
possibly
you should keep in mind the guillotine hanging over your brother's head. This isn't a complicated equation: kill me, kill him. So, why don't we just stick to our agreement, Mr. Ambrose? I've kept my end. We can all walk away winners. You go, I leave your brother alone. You get away scot free to continue tormenting whoever your black heart desires, just not in my town. So stop posturing and let's get on with this."

Jordan stares at me impassively for a few seconds before a large, sickening grin crosses his face. "Oh, Miss Fallon, you are
good
. You are really, truly good," he says as if surprised. "Even now, under all this stress and duress, you remain in character. Kudos. Really. I like you far more than his last paramour. You're miles more entertaining. Still going to kill you, though." He glances at the minion on the right. "Bert, handcuff her to the bomb, please."

"What?" I shriek. Bert slaps a cuff on before I can fight back while the other henchman points the Uzi at me.

"Keep the diamonds. I have loads already."

"We had a deal!" I shout as Uzi man shoves me toward the bomb.

"And she keeps on going! Way to commit!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ambrose!" Bert has already climbed onto the bomb's platform. Uzi presses the gun in my back to get me to climb too. "This is a mistake! A huge mistake! Your brother is dead. He is so fucking dead!"

"You know, you almost had me going there once or twice," Jordan continues.

"Sit and raise your hands," Uzi orders. Having little choice, I obey.
Just buy time. Just buy time, Jo
.

"Especially yesterday. Whoa!" Jordan chuckles. "Tense. You were really going to do it, weren't you?"

With the Uzi still pointed at my vital organs, Bert passes the open cuff through the metal loop and attaches it to my free wrist. Both cuffs are so tight even breaking my thumbs couldn't get me out of them. I am now handcuffed to a bomb. Brilliant plan, Jo. "Look, I don't know what you think is going on, but you have it dead fucking wrong. I am not playing you here!"

"Oh, now you're just growing tedious," Jordan chides. He whips out his cell phone and holds it up to take a picture. "Say cheese!" He snaps a picture of me on the bomb.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Texting our lover," he says, fingers tapping. "'Come and get her.' Short and simple, just like you."

"Goddamn it, Ambrose! You have this all wrong. I--"

"Shut up!" he roars, face becoming almost feral as his voice echoes through the metal space. "Just shut your fucking mouth. You lost. Maintain some damn dignity, woman.
I know
. I know it all! I know you discovered you were under surveillance. I know you and my brother concocted some ridiculous scheme to make it appear you loathe one another so I'd leave you in peace. I even know you must have some hidden tracker so he can locate you now. It was a decent plan, and you played it masterfully. I will concede that. As I said, you almost had me believing your ire on more than one occasion. You really went for it, but you simply…underestimated me.

"I've been following my brother since he touched down in this city. I have photos of you and him pitching woo all over town. I knew about you long before you knew about me. And I sure as hell know my big brother. You're exactly his type. Damaged. Trashy. Dumber than you realize. And more important, you showed him the time of day. I know you had to do all the heavy lifting, I have the recorded conversations to prove it. And do you know why that is, Joanna? Because he doesn't love you!" the maniac bellows, fury echoing through the ship. "He could never love you! You are nothing! Just some whorish, drunken, ugly, fucking gash! You are so beneath him you are not even fit to be the shit he scrapes from his boots! I just have to make him realize that!"

"Then why not just kill me? Blow up my car or shoot me in the head like the coward you are?"

"Haven't you been listening? Because you were no threat, bitch! As is illustrated by your current predicament. The only reason he went along with your absurd farce is out of some misplaced sense of loyalty for drawing attention to you. And I will admit, I was entertained by your little soap opera. Absolutely riveting. Four stars. And spending millions to have the press braying for Lord Nightingale's blood was masterful." He holds out his arms, gesturing to the entire ship. "But I still win. You overplayed your hand. So a bullet? A bomb? Dead is fucking dead."

"So you just spared me until now because I'm a good actress and you wanted to gloat? Show me you have the bigger dick?" I shake my head. "If that's what you need to believe, then knock yourself out.
Please
."

Jordan wryly chuckles, and I'm sure would say something pithy back but Danny Watkins, his lover/bomb expert hustling out from the corridor with something in his hands. "Jordan, it's all set up. The detonators are rigged to this controller."

"Wonderful. Thank you, love." He pecks Danny's lips.

"Oh, so you're allowed to have a significant other, but not your brother? That's fair." I catch Danny's eyes. "Just so you know, my boyfriend is gonna kick your boyfriend's ass. Run while you can."

"Ignore her," Jordan says as he examines the detonator.

"Actually, attention everyone on the boat," I shout. "The megalomanical maniac was just handed a detonator to blow up the entire boat! If you have any sense of self-preservation, you will abandon ship! Now!"

Jordan raises an eyebrow. "Done? Good. Trent, punch her in the face, please."

Uzi's fist makes contact with my right cheek hard enough I see spots. It hurts like a mother, instantly bringing tears to my eyes. Fucking hell.

"Looks good," Jordan says to Danny. "Oh, did you send the video about the bombs in the subway trains?"

"Went out just when she reached the dock," Danny says. "Every available officer is en route now."

Jordan's attention returns to me. "Don't worry,
that
one was a lie. It was just in case your police friends were enlisted as back-up. Best we keep this in the family, so to speak."

If I wasn't so focused on the throbbing pain in my head, I'd probably be concerned.

"And don't worry your vacant little head, Joanna. My brother should see through that ruse. I've used it once before." He stares up at the sky through the open ceiling. "Yes, I think we've covered everything. Now we just have to wait. Place a bag over her head, please."

Trent places tape over my mouth then a bag over my head. Wonderful.

"Positions, gentlemen!" Jordan shouts. "We don't want to make it too easy for him. Injure, but not fatally. He's mine. And close the deck."

Footsteps against metal recede as the men run off. The deck partition above my head must close as I hear machinery whirring and gears spinning, then what little light I can see through the burlap vanishes. Then I'm alone. Alone with a bomb. All I can do is wait. My jaw throbs in time to my racing heart. Well, I'm still alive. That's oddly surprising. I haven't been raped or tortured. Putting that in the win column. Handcuffed to a bomb? Not so much. I'm putting my odds at surviving 1,000 to 1.
No, no bad thoughts
. Faith. Trust.

How much time passes is hard to gage, but awhile as my arms go from pins and needles to numb. All that keeps me company are my hopes and plans. I'm going to take some time off from crime fighting, maybe a month or so. Jem too. We'll take the boat out. Sail for a week or two. Just us and the open water. Making love on deck, exploring exotic locales, talking for hours. And maybe I'll get an apartment in town. I don't want to live in that mausoleum anymore. It's just not me. If I get out of this, I'll make a lot of changes. I swear it. Please just let me survive this, and I will. Don't take us from each other. But if I'm meant to die here today so be it. Just give him the strength to find someone else to love and who loves him as much as I do. Let him find peace. And love. Above all, love. He deserves--

Automatic gunfire above my head jerks me out of prayer. It last two seconds, followed by a hollow thump as I assume a body hits metal. One bad guy down. Poor minions. I did warn them. It happens again, this time there are two bursts of gunfire and the clinking of bullet against steel aft. This time I faintly hear a man groan in pain. He's inside the ship. Running footsteps, four pistol shots, a thump, silence. Closer. Again. Shots, groans of pain, silence. I struggle against the handcuffs, but like the previous dozen times it fails to work. Fuck! Two loud thuds against the walls, then a man howls in pain. Silence.

"Joanna!" Jem shouts, voice echoing through the ship.

A metal door shuts just as more continuous automatic weapon fire begins, bullets hitting metal, ricocheting as a man roars in anger. It lasts five seconds of hell. "Come out, you fucker!" a man shouts. Another thud as he must kick open the door as it hits the wall a millisecond later. More gunfire. Two men screaming, then another thud as someone slams against the wall. Silence. And more silence. It's fucking deafening. Nothing. I don't hear a damn thing beyond my own heavy breathing. He's hurt. If he was hit multiple times, he could bleed out before his body repairs itself. Jordan--

Wind whips behind me then someone lands on the platform beside me. He rips the bag off. Jem. He's a little worse for the wear with an oozing gunshot to the arm and a trickle of blood smeared on his exposed chin. He's still the most glorious sight I've ever viewed in my life. I spot the worst hovering in a dark corner of the ceiling in full red and black villain uniform pointing a rifle at us. Oh fuck! I signal with my eyes, but Jem's too busy ripping the tape from my mouth. "Are you--?"

"Four o'clock!"

Just as Jem pivots, Jordan fires. There's an almost deafening pop. Before I even blink, Jem is knocked off the platform by what looks like a harpoon to his shoulder. I shriek as he's impaled to the floor. The large metal rod has to be four feet long with a ball on top. That is it. This is over. I press the transmitter to summon back-up.

"Sorry about that, brother," Jordan says as he glides toward us. "I know it hurts."

"You fucking bastard!" I shout.

He ignores me and lands beside the still stunned Jem. "I really don't want to fight you. It's not necessary. We're above that, don't you th--"

Jem sweeps his brother's feet from underneath him. The moment the villain flattens, Jem brings the heel of his foot down on Jordan's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As Jordan's dazed, with a guttural roar, Jem yanks the harpoon from his shoulder. I feel his pain down to my soul. Jem manages to rise and with his good arm, raises the rod over his brother's chest like a vengeful Poseidon. Just as it's about to make contact, Jordan rolls aside. The rod sticks in the floor. As Jem realizes what happened, Jordan removes another gun from his belt, firing almost point blank into Jem's chest. Jem's knocked onto his stomach, holding onto his chest with his arm underneath. He doesn't move. He doesn't draw breath. Oh. God.

BOOK: Galilee Rising
5.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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