Page 33 of The Primary Pest (Iphicles Security #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ajax

Ajax cried. He couldn’t help it. He cried and he kept on crying, even though Chet and Peter were shouting and Dmytro looked like someone had just murdered his girls right in front of him.

Had Dmytro thought he could control the situation? Ajax didn’t know what was going on, but seeing Dmytro at a loss was like hearing his father cry on the phone.

Or if El Capitan crumbled to dust.

Without moving a muscle, Dmytro told him everything he needed to know: They were fucked.

Ajax couldn’t look at him. Or maybe he should. Maybe he should go to Dmytro and they should both admit the jig was up, and if they were lucky, they’d get the chance to hold each other once more before Peter and his little pal shot them and threw them overboard.

Because that had to be his endgame. It had to be.

So why didn’t he get it over with?

Because if there was the tiniest bit of hope for them to get away—even if only for Dmytro—if he could keep himself alive and get back to his girls, Ajax Fairchild would not ruin it for him.

“Get out. Move onto the deck.” Peter killed the engine and dropped anchor. “Chet, bring the tape.”

Jesus. Jesus. This was it.

It had all come down to this.

Now Ajax was sure he knew what being real meant. It wasn’t about how you lived or died. It wasn’t about surviving a fall or being heroic or fighting some enemy.

It was only about being in this one moment.

About being fully alive in the time you had. And if he’d known that sooner…

What?

What would he have done differently if he’d known these were his last few minutes on earth?

He’d have told Dmytro he loved him. “Dmytro—”

“Shut up, Ajax.” Dmytro turned away.

Ajax reeled as if Dmytro had slapped him. Did he still think he had a prayer?

Some hope, which, as he’d learned in freshman English, was that thing with feathers that perched in Emily Dickinson’s soul?

Well, good for Emily, but now that Ajax was struggling “in the chillest land” and “on the strangest Sea,” there seemed to be no hope to hold on to.

What could he even hope for? Rescue? A few moments alone with Dmytro? An honorable death? A painless, quick death?

His heart had started knocking against his rib cage, and his breath came in shallow puffs. He choked back nausea as Chet and Peter herded them onto the deck.

“Don’t look at the water, Ajax. Look straight out.”

Dmytro’s voice sounded… resigned.

Oh God. Oh God. They weren’t going to make Dmytro shoot him, were they?

“If you look at the horizon,” Dmytro reminded him, “you won’t get seasick.”

Ajax glanced back to find Dmytro wasn’t armed anyway. Peter was, but his weapon hand had relaxed for now.

Chet came on deck with his thick roll of goddamn duct tape. Ajax hated that silver fucking bullshit now. He could still feel the abrasions where tape had taken off his skin. If Chet put on more…

Peter switched to his PC carbine and aimed it at Ajax. “Next to the rail. You too, Dmytro.”

“What’d I say? Joke’s on you, Boris.” Chet grinned maniacally as he shoved the unarmed Dmytro next to Ajax. “Kneel down and put your hands through the railing.”

He tore off long strips of duct tape and bound their wrists around the railing of the Charioteer . Water churned beneath them. It was at least a twenty-foot drop. Looking down, Ajax knew he was going to be sick.

Dmytro reminded him, “Look at the horizon, Ajax.”

Ajax lifted his gaze and tried to breathe in the cool, refreshing air.

The sky where it met the horizon was as blue as the Caribbean Sea. Above them, it was streaked with mare’s tail clouds and condensation trails. Sunlight glimmered off green water, creating a path he could almost walk along toward the east.

If only.

In the far distance there came the noise of an engine, and if he looked hard, a speck of a boat, tiny now, made its way toward them. The rendezvous vessel? Or an unrelated traveler oblivious to their problems in this vast, deep ocean.

The ocean was full of boats.

He glanced at Dmytro, whose face remained impassive as always.

“There’s our ride. Chet,” Peter said, “you know what to do.”

“God, those two.” Ajax gave a head shake. “It’s like watching Pinky and the Brain.”

Dmytro’s lips twisted, but he made no comment.

“Sorry about this, Dmytro.” Peter aimed a shrug Dmytro’s way. “But I think we both know I’d be a fool to let you live.”

“Damn right.” The words tore away Ajax’s composure. “Dmytro is worth ten of you.”

“That he is,” Peter said with an honesty that surprised him. “He’s worth a hundred of Chet—”

“Hey!” Chet was not amused. “I heard that.”

“But good men are bad for criminal business. I doubt anyone could buy you, Dmytro. Not even with your children’s lives.”

“Don’t count me out. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth if you harm one hair on their heads.”

“I lied about that,” Peter said. “Your girls are safe from me.”

If Ajax expected to feel Dmytro’s body sag with relief, as his wanted to do, it didn’t happen. He simply turned away and watched as the little boat—a trawler if Ajax wasn’t mistaken—chugged nearer and nearer.

No hope for a last-minute rescue from Iphicles, then. None of the ex-military snobs who worked there would look at that tub, much less board it.

Dmytro still didn’t say a word, and he wouldn’t look at Ajax directly either. He kept his eyes on the horizon, on the boat as it neared. On Chet and Peter, who grabbed duffel bags from the bridge and waited until the vessel drew alongside.

Peter’s smile reminded Ajax he’d originally thought him charming in a hipster way. He put his hand on Dmytro’s shoulder.

“I hope you know, I’m truly sorry you and Bartosz got in the way of my plans. Anyone might have caught babysitting duty, only you and he drew the short straws.”

“I understand,” Dmytro said calmly.

Ajax had definitely gained a passionate hatred for beards and flannel and fucking gauges. He’d certainly never look at another man wearing them without wanting to kill them.

Not that he had much longer to live.

“Here’s where we leave you.” Peter threw his bag to the other boat. Chet followed suit and clambered over the railing, leaping onto the dirty thing without a backward glance.

“You’re gonna leave us alive?” Ajax asked, astounded. Maybe they’d get out of this after all.

He’d chew his way through that fucking tape if he had to.

“Aw.” Peter laughed. “He lives in hope, doesn’t he? Wraps himself in it like he wrapped himself in all that cash his family had.”

Ajax glanced to Dmytro for an explanation.

Dmytro shook his head.

Peter stood by the railing for a moment longer before he added, “I’m going to miss this barge.”

Then he leaped over the railing to join Chet on the smaller boat.

“What the hell just happened?” Ajax asked, but before Dmytro could answer, the trawler’s engines roared to life and it took off. “Dmytro, answer me.”

Dmytro watched it go, saying nothing.

“Is that it?” Ajax asked. “Seriously, if that’s it, then help me get out of this fucking tape.”

“Here.” Dmytro scooted along the railing far enough to hoist his foot toward Ajax’s hands. “There’s a knife in my boot.”

“Where?” Ajax couldn’t think clearly. Why had Peter left them alive? Why was the trawler turning again, its engines idling?

“Inside, along the ankle, there’s a slim blade. Feel it? Hurry!”

“You’ve had a knife all along? Couldn’t you have used this to save the day before now?”

“Against two men armed with guns? Not really.”

“All right. Got it.” Ajax twisted and turned until he could feel inside Dmytro’s boot. The blade was slim, more like a letter opener than a knife, but it was sharp enough to get through duct tape. He didn’t look forward to peeling off more of his skin, but that was the least of his worries.

He sliced through his own and then through Dmytro’s. “Don’t you think it’s weird that they didn’t see this coming?”

Was the trawler even moving now? It wasn’t. Maybe they were making sure they got away?

Or… Ajax turned to Dmytro. “Oh God. Are they coming back?”

“No.”

“Then why all this? Why leave us alive? Why the goddamn mind fuck?”

“They probably didn’t want us found with bullet holes in our bodies,” Dmytro said grimly. “Pretend you’re still tied to the railing and stay down while I—”

Whump .

The deck of the Charioteer gave a mighty, mighty shudder, and water churned all around it like—like—

“Oh my God.” From his sitting position at the rail, Ajax was thrown brutally against its bars. His ribs cracked against the metal, and he let out a shocked cry. “Did they just blow us up?”

Ajax’s body rolled when another shockwave hit, and the entire ship heaved from one side to the other. It pitched and dove without anywhere to go because they were still dragging the anchor.

Dmytro used one of his powerful arms to push himself upright. He tried to cushion Ajax’s next fall with his body. “Hold on to the railing. Hold tight, Ajax. Don’t let go until I tell you to.”

“I saw this movie,” Ajax said, stricken. “One of us dies.”

Despite Dmytro’s death grip, they were tossed around like dolls.

Ajax shouted, “Are they watching this? Watching us until we go down?”

“Probably. Keep your head down. They’ll start shooting if they think we have a chance.” Dmytro grabbed Ajax’s hand. “Come with me. Stay low. We might still be able to transmit a—”

Hot mist spattered Ajax’s face. A microsecond later, the crack of gunfire came over the wind. Ajax watched, unable to comprehend, as Dmytro hit the railing and fell overboard.

As if in a dream, Ajax watched him hit the water. Everything in his life narrowed down to one man, one choice. He glanced back at the trawler to find it had turned again and was chugging away.

Leaving them. Leaving him on a sinking boat. Leaving Dmytro to plunge, unconscious, to the bottom of the sea, and Ajax… Ajax was a strong, well-trained swimmer, and he would fight, but no one could fight forever.

There was nothing else to do but get on the rail, take a deep breath, and jump into the water.