Seduced by Sunday
Page 76

Left without choices, Val stood beside Rick as Stephan released the rope holding his ship to the dock and jumped onto the vessel.
Stephan took hold of Margaret’s arm, pulled her phone from her fingers, and tossed it onto the dock. “Wouldn’t want you to trace a phone.”
He shoved her inside, where he maneuvered the ship away. It didn’t take long for him to clear the dock and find speed.
Rick slipped away and all Val could do was stare.
Alonzo was still on the phone.
Frustrated rage built and boiled. Once again, Val was yelling into a phone. “Harm her, and you’re a dead man.”
“Murder is messy, Masini. Not that I mind it. Now go find my wife and keep her safe. I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
So hot . . . escaping the sun wasn’t possible. And how did she end up on a two-person dinghy?
Her head hurt, but it wasn’t bad . . . not as bad as it would be.
Gabi grabbed her head with both hands and started to rock. If only she could sleep. That would be better than waiting for the pain to worsen.
She stood, and felt the boat tip under her bare feet. The white dress she wore at her wedding was hanging off her shoulders. When was the last time she changed clothes?
And a shower . . . she wanted a shower.
The boat tipped again. She slid to the floor, curled into a ball, and closed her eyes.
“Do we have a trace?” Rick asked into the phone.
Val rushed beside Rick as he jumped into a golf cart and released the emergency break.
They were speeding toward the island airport.
Lou stayed behind with orders to lock all employees down. It was obvious there was more than one accomplice on the island. Who they were and what they could tell them might be the difference between life and death for Margaret.
Rick spoke quickly, most of the conversation lost on Val. When he hung up, he relayed their plan.
“I placed a tracking device on your charter when I came over. There’s another one on the inside of one of the crates. If the boat and drugs divorce, we’ll trace them both.”
Some of the tension in Val’s head started to relax. “How will we know where Margaret is?”
Rick, who always seemed to have a smile, didn’t have a hint of one now. “She’s my wife’s best friend. Losing her isn’t an option.”
Val could beat that . . . “She’s my future.”
Rick offered a nod. “How well do you shoot, Masini?”
“Well enough. I wouldn’t take a shot with someone I cared about close by.”
They skidded to a halt in front of the airstrip and jumped out. Rick reached behind his back and stopped short. He patted his belt line, removed his jacket to reveal the holster he had strapped to his shoulders. “Son of a bitch.” Rick was smiling now.
“What?”
He held up a finger and removed his cell phone. “Hey, babe. No time to explain. Tell me, what sport did Meg excel in during college?”
Val shuffled his feet as he watched Rick listen to his wife. He started to laugh, the sound in complete contrast to the emotions inside Val’s stomach.
The sound of a helicopter on approach drowned out the call.
“Love you, too.” Rick hung up, smiled. “Learn something new every day.”
“What?”
The wind kicked up as the helicopter spun around to land. Val moved back, found himself turning away to avoid the blowing sand.
“Meg was part of a marksmanship team her sophomore and junior years,” he yelled. “I had no idea.”
“What good is that without a gun?”
Rick kept smiling, reached around his back, and removed an empty holster. “Decent pickpocket skills.”
For the first time in hours, Val felt his heart lift.
The pilot waved outside the window for them to jump in.
It wasn’t until they clicked their seat belts and were in the air that Val realized they were in a military helicopter.
Neil sat next to the pilot and handed earphones to Val.
Once the earphones muffled the sound of the chopper, and the voices of the men on board could be heard without yelling, Val said, “I thought you were both retired Marines.”
It was the pilot who answered, “Once a Marine, always a Marine.”
“Let’s find your sister,” Neil said.
Val looked in the direction Margaret sailed. “What about Margaret?”
Rick tapped on a device that sat in the center of the helicopter. It reminded Val of a submarine gauge, or maybe something air traffic control used to keep track of what was in the air. There were blips and dots . . . “The red one is Meg.”
“The others?”
“These two are Blake’s, positioned to avoid detection . . . and these three”—Rick winked—“friends.”
“Looks like a small army.”
“Close enough,” Neil said.
Rick shoved a pair of binoculars into Val’s hands and they all peered out over the ocean.
Time ticked slowly.
Val scoured the ocean, glancing into every boat, every personal watercraft. The only redemption was not finding an empty boat. Even though frustration made his foot tap, he kept looking. Gabi was out there.
An hour into their search, Neil called out and pointed. “There.”
The pilot circled around and moved with purpose.
All Val saw was a small boat and a pool of white resting on the bottom of it. The closer they approached, the more hopeful he became.
Dressed in a dirty white dress, her limbs bright red with the sun, Gabi lay with her arm over her head. She wasn’t moving.
“How low can we get?”