Emerald Fire. Monica McCabe

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Boca Chica.

      The town was a strange mix of potential gone wrong. Nearby resorts screamed luxury, but here at the marketplace, bleak signs of poverty were everywhere. Occasional traces of a happier, color-soaked past peeked through the deteriorated streets and buildings, but today’s commerce had a hard edge as locals scratched out a living on the few brave tourists who strayed to their beaches and shops.

      Chloe wasn’t sure she liked the calculating gleam that lit the eyes of every vendor at the sight of their cold hard cash. Not one of them batted an eyelash when Finn inquired about buying things that, if not illegal, probably should be. Military surplus was sold like black market contraband, and it didn’t take long to acquire enough firepower to take out a small army. Or a pirate stronghold.

      That hard reality challenged her nerve. Her line of work at the Foundation required risk. She was used to taking chances. Reclaiming lost cultural artifacts wasn’t for the faint of heart. But raiding a pirate den and stealing back a hundred and twenty-foot yacht was a definite first.

      Her bounty hunting ticket to the Emerald Fire had a serious death wish going on. And here she was, following his lead because she wanted the Fire just as desperately as he did. Correction, he wanted the yacht—she wanted what was hidden on board.

      They’d pushed their way down a busy sidewalk and veered into a small shady park with an open bench. Once out of the harsh noonday sun, the temperature dropped from high-intensity sauna to an acceptable level of hot, and they took a seat. Finn began ripping open their purchases, strategically placing them in their backpacks while Chloe gathered the destroyed packaging. She walked it over to a nearby trashcan and tossed it, all the while glancing curiously at the people moving by on the sidewalk.

      They were a mash up of local and tourist. She wondered what drew them here. And what kept them here. About to turn back, the sight of a familiar face several store fronts away made her gasp. She knew the man that rounded a street corner and disappeared.

      “Uncle Jon!” she shouted and tore off after him.

      Finn yelled her name, but she kept running. She zipped around a corner and stopped cold, searching the crowd for another glimpse.

      There he was, head down and hands in pockets as he made his way across the street. She rushed forward again, dodging shoppers in her frantic dash along the sidewalk. She raced up behind him and grabbed his arm just before he stepped into a street-side cafe.

      Her uncle whipped around, prepared to fend off an attacker, but his expression morphed to stunned amazement when recognition dawned. He whooped in delight and immediately squeezed her into a bear hug.

      Finn caught up with them seconds later, armed with their duffle bags and a scowl dark enough to block the Caribbean sun. She didn’t care. Her uncle was alive! And in Boca Chica!

      Wait a minute.

      “What are you doing here and not in St. Lucia?” she asked him.

      “I can ask you the same thing,” he replied with a grin.

      “I flew down as soon as I heard the Fire was missing.”

      Her uncle’s smile disappeared, and he glanced at the stormy visage of her new partner.

      “Uncle Jon, meet Finnegan Kane.”

      Finn stuck his hand out to her uncle. “Boston Marine Insurance, sir.”

      “I don’t recognize you from Sam Brady’s office,” her uncle replied as he shook Finn’s hand.

      “It’s a long story.” Finn gestured toward the café. “How about we have lunch and talk about it?”

      As the two men sized each other up, Chloe looped her arm through her uncle’s, and with a giant smile of relief, she steered him through the café entrance. They were quickly seated outside on the patio under the shade of a coconut tree, and after placing their order, Chloe could wait no longer. “What happened, Uncle Jon? Why haven’t you contacted anyone?”

      Her uncle shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t. Until last night I’ve been hiding on board the Fire.”

      “Where are Mike and Brett?” she asked.

      He shook his head, his shoulders dropping as he leaned back in his chair. “Dead. Shot and dumped overboard.”

      Pain ripped through Chloe. She’d known both crewmen for years. Brett was the Fire’s first mate. He’d befriended her immediately after signing onboard eleven years ago. He’d taught her sailor knots and answered endless childish questions. Mike served as cook and purser, a gentle man with an easy laugh and fabulous stories. She’d loved spending time in the galley with him, learning to cook gourmet meals and laughing over his tales of adventure. She never knew if he had lived all those stories or made them up as he went along, but their entertainment factor had kept her going back for more.

      That they were now gone choked off her breath, and a giant, gaping hole opened in her chest where her heart used to be.

      “The scumbags hit us deep in the night,” her uncle continued. “Before I even knew what happened, we were under sail. The movement of the ship woke me, and I started topside, but something, I don’t know what, instinct maybe, had me turning back to the master cabin and using the escape hatch instead. Outside I slid along the starboard lines, up and over the bridge until I could see the aft deck. There were three pirates, and they were asking Mike and Brett who else was on board. They claimed they were alone, to protect me I guess. The bastards used silencers to shoot them, then tossed them in the water.”

      Chloe squeezed her eyes shut against the horrific image.

      “I just lay there,” her uncle continued, “too stunned to move or speak. I struggled to process that I’d just witnessed the murder of two good friends.”

      Chloe couldn’t believe it either, and the vengeance she’d felt taking hold inside her earlier widened to an all-consuming need for retribution. Fury burned her nerve endings and sharpened her resolve to carry out tonight’s risky plan.

      “I don’t know how long I lay there,” Uncle Jon said, “but self-preservation finally got me moving. Daylight approached, and I had to hide because I damn sure wasn’t allowing those animals to steal my ship, murder my friends, and get away with it.”

      Lunch was delivered right then, and Chloe looked at her steaming bowl of gumbo and thick bread with reluctance. Her appetite had vanished.

      Their waiter drifted away, and Finn leaned forward on the table, ignoring his lunch as well. “How’d you end up in Boca Chica?”

      “They sailed us here, drinking my liquor and partying the whole way. Their base camp is a boat sales and repair shop that sits a pretty good distance out of town. I jumped ship when they berthed the Fire at their pier last night, then walked the six or seven miles into town.”

      Chloe reached over and laid her hand on her uncle’s, squeezing with support. She didn’t know what to say or how he had managed to stay hidden the two days it took to sail here, but she was beyond glad he did.

      “Can you get back to that camp?” Finn asked.

      “Absolutely,” Jonathan replied. He smiled at Chloe, but turned inquisitive eyes toward Finn. “Tell СКАЧАТЬ