Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(40)
“Don’t try it,” Captain Harry hissed. “The others could come in at any moment. And if that English-speaking one catches you, I’m afraid…” He let the sentence dangle. After a bit he shook his head. “I was in the military long enough to recognize a man who has killed. And that man has most certainly killed. And liked it, if I’m not mistaken.” Maybe that was that dark, zealous thing she’d seen in their captor’s eyes. “Don’t you be his next victim. We just need to stay calm, keep our heads about us, and do whatever they want.”
“But what do they want?” she asked. “Are they some sort of…pirates? Are they lookin’ for ransom? If so, why drag us out here? Why haven’t they called—”
That’s as far as she got, because the two-way radio on the console crackled to life, a deep voice suddenly filling the bridge. “Motor yacht, motor yacht…this is Wayfarer-I off your port-side, over?”
With a snort and cough, Skinny A-hole Number Two sprang awake. The dingy feet he’d propped on the console hit the floor with a thud, and he glanced around wildly, blinking as if he was afraid she and the captain may have disappeared on him. When he saw them sitting in the exact spot they’d been before he decided to catch some Z’s, he relaxed. That is until that deep voice snapped over the airwaves again.
“I’m hailin’ the yacht that is floatin’ at the approximate coordinates…” The man on the radio rattled off some numbers, and their guard’s bearded chin jerked back. “This is the salvage ship Wayfarer-I floatin’ some distance off your port-side, do you copy?”
Maddy was equal parts delighted and dismayed by the words echoing through the bridge. A salvage ship could mean salvation! It could also spell doom for the people aboard if the pirates—or terrorists or whatever the hell these guys were—decided to lure them in and open fire.
Her heart started pounding in her chest like the stupid organ was a convict trying to break free of her rib cage. And when she glanced over, it was to find Captain Harry’s eyes once again popping clean out of his head.
The skinny guy barked something unintelligible at the captain and pointed his weapon at Harry’s chest. Then he did something truly strange. He stuck his thumb and forefinger into his mouth.
Gross. Maddy’s top lip curled back. The guy’s hands were filthy, caked with dirt. Then a high-pitched whistle blasted from between his teeth, startling her with its volume.
A second later, footsteps thundered up the interior stairs to the bridge and Lead A-hole threw open the door, entering the room with a snarl. He barked something to Skinny A-hole Number Two, who subsequently picked up the handset on the two-way radio.
When it came alive again with, “Motor yacht, motor yacht…this is Wayfarer-I off your port-side, hailin’ on channel sixteen, do you copy?” Lead A-hole stomped over and snatched the radio from the skinny man’s clutches. He turned in their direction, pulling a knife out of the waistband of his trousers.
Maddy’s entire body broke out in a cold sweat. Her stomach went from attempting to slide out of her ass to turning a series of flips that made her want to hurl. “No!” she screamed when he brandished the weapon in Captain Harry’s face. But he didn’t stick the thing in the captain’s gut as she feared. Instead, he reached around and sliced through Harry’s restraints. Straightening, he thrust the handset at the captain. “Answer,” he growled. “Send them away.”
With shaking fingers, Captain Harry took the handset, pressing the button on the side. “Wayfar—” His voice cracked with tension. He had to clear his throat before trying again. “Wayfarer-I, Wayfarer-I…this is Captain Harry Tripplehorn on the Black Gold. Sorry for the delay in response. I just popped into the loo, over?”
Maddy lifted a brow at the captain—Quick thinking, Harry, old boy!—before sitting forward to crane her head to try to get a peek out the bridge’s windows. Squinting her eyes, she searched the port-side horizon for the mysterious Wayfarer-I.
There! Far enough in the distance that only when the Black Gold bobbed to the top of a wave could she see the salvage ship’s gray hull glinting dully in the afternoon sun.
“Ahoy, Black Gold,” the voice crackled from the radio. The man’s accent spoke of his Southern heritage. Louisiana or Alabama would be Maddy’s guess. His slow drawl and the way he elongated his vowels was different from the Texas twang she was used to hearing. “It’s a great day to be at sea, over?”
“A great day, indeed,” the captain responded. “Which is why we decided to throw anchor and have a bit of a stay, over?”
Maddy settled stiffly back into the love seat, her mind racing with possibilities. Was the salvage ship far enough away to call in a Mayday without risking reprisal from the men aboard the Black Gold? Yessiree, Bob. She’d bet her best boots it was. Even though the Black Gold was one smooth-sailing vessel, under full steam that salvage ship surely had enough oomph to outpace her.
But how to let the crew on board Wayfarer-I know that things on the Black Gold were hell and gone from copacetic? How to get them to call in that Mayday?
And then she knew…
The next time Captain Harry depressed the button on the handset, she’d scream her lungs out for help. Oh, sure. She might get a bullet in her brain for the effort. But she might also save Harry, Nigel, and Bruce in the process. And since it was her fault they were in the mess to begin with…