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The man roared, but the guy behind him shouted something, and Stein stepped back, hands up again.The first man was bleeding from the nose, and Steinbeck tasted his own blood filling his mouth.Then the second gunman came up, grabbed the handgun out of the other man’s hand, and shoved Stein in front of him, out of the mechanical room.
The remaining engine still hummed, impervious.Not good.
They pushed him into the galley, then up the stairs to the salon.Austen’s eyes widened as he came into the room, and her breath caught.All right, so maybe he looked a little rough.But not as bad as Declan.The guy appeared worked over pretty good—black eye, bloody nose, and he was wincing a little bit.Steinbeck tried not to care.
They led him over to the sofa where Phoenix sat in her now-grimy white uniform.He lowered himself next to her and glanced at her.She rolled her eyes.Yeah, well, they weren’t dead yet.And that counted.
The first Russian, the one Stein had hit, came into the room, shouted at the guard, and then pointed his gun at Steinbeck.Uh-oh.Steinbeck raised his hands.Oh, please, not in front of Austen.
But maybe Big and Angry was just making a point, because he glared at Steinbeck, then stalked out of the salon.
“What happened to you?”Austen said.“I was so worried!”
“Stop talking,” said the Russian, but Stein ignored him.
“I went for a little dip.”
“Oh brother,” Austen said.
“This was not the plan,” Phoenix said beside him.
“Really?”
“Stop talking!”The Russian got up, walked over to Steinbeck, and it looked like he was going to hit him again, but Steinbeck held up one hand, met his eyes, and gave atry melook.
Whoever these guys were, they weren’t mercenaries.Lousy shots and easily intimidated.So that made them who?Maybe Mafia, although the Russian Bratva was one of the toughest, meanest in the world.So if they were Bratva recruits, they seemed low on the ladder.Which meant they could be overpowered, right?
Especially this guy.
Stein glanced at Declan, then at the salon door, back at Declan.
The man’s mouth tightened around the edges.Whatever Stein thought about Declan, he’d been a Marine, so he could handle himself.
And Stein’s adrenaline was still running hot.Better to attack now while they still had a chance to get away.The longer they settled in, the less momentum played on their side.
Steinbeck looked at Phoenix.She gave him a nod, and then she smiled.
He did not expect the burst of heat inside his chest.The way her smile lit him up.They weren’t friends.And maybe not enemies either, but yeah, this woman had gotten way too far into his psyche.Still, she was tough.A partner, for now.
He said quietly, nearly a whisper.“When I go, you go.”
She nodded.
“So, Declan, who are these guys anyway?”Stein directed the question to Declan but glanced at the Russian.He had answered his radio, listening to something.
Hopefully not a kill order.
Declan frowned, his voice low.“I don’t know.Russian pirates?”
“Oh, please,” Austen said, her voice also quiet.“They said they were looking for something, and then they brought you to the bridge.What were they looking for?What do they want, Declan?”
Oh, she sounded mad.As if she’d decided that Declan was a criminal after all.
Steinbeck felt a little sorry for Declan when his eyes widened.So long, Romeo.
Then Declan sighed.“In truth, they’re looking for a ship.One of my ships.It has cargo on it that they want.They found her coordinates, and they’re going after her.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phoenix scowl.