Page 27 of Anchor

“You must be happy,” Jones says and his congenial tone makes me want to gag. He soundspleasedwith himself.

Gabe barely even bats an eye. Because yes, I’m not going to take my eyes off of him until we have the reassuring solidity of land beneath our feet. “What should I be happy about?”

He must be damn good at whatever job he has. I don’t think I heard him say exactly. From his ease in this high stakes debacle, it has to be something with a lot of stress because he’s cool under all the pressure.

At least one of us seems to be.

“You think you’ve already won,” Jones says. His legs cross in my line of vision. Just passed where the two of them are sitting, I can see the captain’s chest rising and falling in his peaceful slumber, the lucky bastard.

“Hard to win a game I don’t even know I’m playing,” Gabe replies evenly.

“Don’t be stupid, Gabriel. We both know you’re smarter than that.”

“Since you seem to know so much, why don’t you explain to me what exactly you want from me.”

“I want you to remember.”

A furrow between Gabe’s brows is the only outward reaction he has to Jones’s cryptic statement. “I’ll do whatever you want, remember whatever the hell you want,” Gabe says and he jerks his chin at me, “as long as you let Chloe go.”

“Ohhh. It’s Chloe now, is it? Getting friendly, are we?”

Gabe grits his teeth. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Jones crosses a leg nonchalantly. “She volunteered for the position.” He waves the subject of me away like a gnat. “Besides, you’ll be most uncooperative if I give away my leverage. So long as you answer my questions honestly, she’ll be completely safe.”

“Like those hostages were safe?” Gabe asks acidly.

Jonestsks. “Now, Gabe, I wasn’t the one who lured me into a trap. You didn’t think you were going to get away with that little stunt, did you?”

“They were innocent,” Gabe says.

“Everyone is innocent. That doesn’t mean they’re exempt. Innocent people die every day, Mr. Rossi, or are you not aware?”

Gabe’s response is silence.

“Now, tell me about yourself, Gabriel.”

His nostrils flare. “Are you sure this is how you want to spend your limited time on this Earth?” he asks instead of answering.

Jones chuckles. “No, I imagine I’ll spend it watching the life drain from your eyes. Until then, answer the question, or I’ll shoot your little damsel here and I won’t be picky about where.”

Gabriel

Recognizingthe rock and its bitch, the hard place, I relent. “What do you want to know?” I ask.

There’s a fanatic gleam in Jones’ eyes now. One that tells me whatever fucked up finale he’s twisting around in that brain of his will happen—soon. So the best I can do for Chloe and me is stall him for time until the badges on shore can figure out a plan B. One that ends with the two of us alive.

If not, then I need to figure out an end game of my own.

Jones smiles. “Why don’t you start with your daughter?”

There’s a strangled sound from the captain and all of our eyes go to his limp body. When he doesn’t rouse, the attention swings back in my direction.

The question twists itself in my chest like a pissed-off pit of vipers. Jones seems positively beside himself with glee. The maniacal smile that’s more of a grimace draws his pale face taut in the moonlight.

When I say nothing, Jones jabs Chloe in the ribs with the muzzle of the gun. He turns and lifts a brow.

I’m not the kind of man who enjoys death. There are some who find a small measure of sick satisfaction when they take a life. A lot of men I’ve worked with over the years find it a sense of relief when they rid the world of bad men, but I’ve taken no pleasure in it.