Page 10 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)

Mick

I’m still on high alert when my brain clocks the sound of a boat launching.

Cursing, I scramble to my feet, gun in my hand and heart thumping against my ribcage as I search for the source of the noise. Sure enough, the yacht in the slip at the end of the jetty is on the move. A quick scan of the jetty lets me know Samantha is gone too.

Growling under my breath, I try to process what just happened. One minute I had her in my sights, then maniacs dressed as law enforcement were firing directly at us.

“US Coast Guard!”

I shout, sprinting to the nearest yacht.

“Sweep your searchlight across your port side—slow and wide!”

The man fumbles for the switch, and I jump onto the swim deck.

“Keep it steady!”

I bark.

“I need reflection, movement—anything!”

The beam slices through the dark like a sword, rippling off black water. I scan for the telltale break in the pattern, the shimmer of skin, the splash of panic. A cry. A ripple.

Anything.

I grit my teeth. No flotation, no backup, and the marina’s crawling with people who’ll be dialing 911 any second.

I unbutton my jeans, kick off my shoes, and dive off the side of the yacht. I chop through the waves, using my arms as blades until I reach the patch of blue illuminated by the searchlight.

Nothing.

I take a breath, flip over, and kick downward, descending as quickly as I can. In seconds, I’ll lose the illumination the searchlight provides.

Alternating between praying and running through my training, I catch sight of blond hair trailing like seaweed in the water. I kick harder and grab the pack she’s wearing, jerking her upward until I reach the surface.

Instantly, I press the heel of my hand on her forehead, tilting her head back to open her airways. Taking a breath, I pinch her nostrils closed, turn her body and head toward me and give four quick breaths. Readying myself for her to vomit, I wait then give her another four short breaths.

She coughs in my face, shuddering in my grip as her eyes flicker open and she sucks in a gulp of air.

“Just relax. You’re okay,” I say.

Her body goes limp, and she lets me start my slow crawl back to the jetty.

When I’m a few feet away, I look up and see two men silhouetted. Given the size of the second man, it’s obvious who decided to join the party.

Caleb.

As I swim closer with my arm locked around Samantha’s chest, Caleb extends his hand, ready to grab her.

“We don’t have much time,” he says.

I grunt a reply, too focused on getting her out of the water.

“Keep her upright.”

He nods, his face grave in the searchlight.

“Roger that.”

His hands snag on her clothing, and he yanks her up onto the boat.

As I haul myself up the ladder, another face appears. Jake’s talking to the owner of the boat in placating tones.

“…emergency, we’ll intercept the cops and let them know how helpful you’ve been to our investigation.”

Investigation? Who is this kid? I don’t know what other lies he’s telling, but I don’t have time to care. Not when I have a drowning victim coughing up bay water and shivering.

“She needs to go to the hospital,”

I say to Caleb.

Samantha shakes her head vehemently.

As I accept a towel from him, Caleb lowers his voice.

“I agree. Not an option. We lost sight of the boat, but they left us a message.”

I frown, yank my jeans over my wet boxers, and grimace at the sensation.

“What message?”

He mimes slicing his throat.

“Owner of the boat.”

Samantha groans behind us and croaks out a name. “Juan.”

As the owner steps inside the cabin, Jake gains our attention.

“We need to get out of here. PD are about two minutes away.”

Samantha tries to get up but collapses on the deck. Without thinking, I pull her upward and into me. She staggers, but when Caleb grabs my shoes, she lets me guide her off the boat and back onto the jetty.

Caleb hooks his arm under her, and we half drag her down the jetty until Jake points out the obvious.

“Faster to carry her.”

With no time to draw straws, I defer to Caleb, who hefts her in his arms and stalks off down the jetty as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes.

I glance at Jake as we pick up our pace so we can go ahead of him.

“You saw me check in with the dockmaster?”

He laughs.

“Silas told us to watch your back. And Caleb figured you’d save us the legwork.”

Something tells me they already knew who was moored at each slip, but I let it go, too concerned about Samantha’s condition. I skirt around Caleb, hurry past him to the Jeep in the parking lot, and open the back door.

“She needs a medical assessment,” I say.

Caleb nods and eases her into the backseat.

“Jake? Get us out of here. I’ll call Axel and see who we’ve got in the area.”

Jake gives him a clipped nod then slides in behind the wheel again. When Caleb takes the passenger side, I climb into the back so I can fasten Samantha’s seat belt. I reach across her, and she shrinks back, pressing her spine against the door. Even with minimal lighting, it’s apparent she’s terrified of me.

Not a response I’ve ever had to deal with after I’ve saved a life.

“Can you reach your seat belt?”

Her response is weak, almost pathetic. “Yes.”

With trembling fingers, she pulls it taut, and I click mine into place just as Jake floors the accelerator.

I glance over my shoulder and catch the flash of blue and red lights as they speed into the marina carpark. A knot of guilt wedges in my gut that I’m not going to be there to help explain. Not that I can explain. I’m about as clueless as I was when Reese and Verity showed up on the plane and saved my life.

As Caleb and Jake confer, I keep my eyes on Samantha, praying that she wasn’t under the water long. The next few hours will be crucial. If she develops breathing difficulties, sleepiness, or confusion, nothing is going to keep me from getting her to the hospital.

“Someone want to tell me who those guys were?” I say.

Jake rounds a bend too quickly.

“We’ll talk more when we get there,”

Caleb says.

“And where is there?”

Caleb replies.

“B and B on Lenox Ave. A nurse is waiting. Sinai is an eight-minute drive away.”

It’s not ideal, but at least I can get her on ALS if she deteriorates.

I glance at Samantha. Her arms are wrapped around her body, and she’s shivering. Whether it’s from cold, shock, or fear, I won’t know until someone checks her out.

We make it across town in record time, but by the time we reach Lenox Avenue, she’s still shivering, her teeth are chattering, and she’s slumped against the door.

Jake pulls up outside a pale pink, art deco-style house with curved corners and glass block windows. I unbuckle while Caleb opens the door for Samantha like she’s royalty.

Samantha, for the most part, looks bewildered, but when he holds out his meaty forearm for her to grab, she reluctantly accepts his help and allows him to walk her toward the house.

I slam the door shut as Jake comes alongside me and smirks under the street lamp.

“I was expecting a knockout, not a drowned rat.”

I reward his lousy attempt at humor with a glare.

“Not funny.”

Nothing about this is funny.

Not a single thing.

The woman I so badly wanted to see in chains is just as helpless as any other victim I’ve rescued.

Jake’s smile lessens.

“Yeah. Well, don’t forget she’s a con artist. Wouldn’t be surprised if she faked drowning to get sympathy.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks into the house, whistling, planting a seed of doubt that instantly replaces my concern.