The Girl Beneath the Sea (Underwater Investigation Unit #1)(22)

“Wonderful.”

After we hang up, I momentarily contemplate sneaking back into the crime scene to get Nadine those samples, then think better of it.



I make it back to the harbor an hour after sunset. When I turn the corner on the dock, I see the light is on in the bow cabin, Jackie’s room. She must’ve just arrived.

A smile comes to my face.

She’ll love the news about my paper getting published. Run won’t know if this is on par with having your Little League photo in the local newspaper or the Nobel Prize, but he’ll suggest we all go out to dinner and celebrate.

I wish I could accept, but the less time I’m around them right now, the safer it is for Jackie.

I set foot on my boat, and my brain tells me something is wrong. I just can’t quite figure out what that is.

The cabin door is wide open, and the only light is coming from Jackie’s room.

“Jackie?”

No answer.

She could be listening to her phone with her earbuds in.

“Babe?”

I move past our galley, down the tiny hallway that leads to the bathroom on the left and my cabin on the right.

When I push the door to Jackie’s cabin open, I spot a man dressed in black kneeling on the floor next to her bed.

And he isn’t Run.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

QUARTERDECK

Survival or maternal instincts kick in—take your pick. The man begins to stand, his right hand going behind his back. Before he can draw, I give him a side kick to the exposed ribs, slamming him back against the narrow bed.

The narrow empty bed . . .

My hand reaches for my own gun, tucked into the waist of my jeans. As I raise it, the man glances over my shoulder.

I duck, but not quickly enough to avoid a partial blow to the back of my neck that sends a shock down my spine and makes me see stars.

I wheel around, gun extended toward my unseen attacker.

Another man, this one a tall white guy with receding hair, is blocking the small passage. He lands a right hook to my jaw. My knees buckle, and I feel the gun being pried from my hands by the first man.

BANG.

I fire a round before he twists the barrel back so far that I have to let go or break a finger.

“Fuck!” he curses over the ringing in my ears.

I hope I hit him, but I’m afraid I only singed him.

“Get down!” says his partner, grabbing at my hair.

I throw a punch with my left, straight at his balls. He turns, avoiding the worst of the blow, but he’s unbalanced and has to brace himself on the door frame.

I surge past him, trying to squeeze through the small space between his body and the wall. The other man grabs at my calf, sharp fingernails clawing into the muscle.

I kick back, hit something, and push forward.

“Jackie!” I scream, my first words since seeing the man at her bed.

There’s no answer. I grab the door to the head and slam it open, blocking the tall man for a moment.

The bathroom is empty.

A long arm reaches through the space between the door and the wall and grabs my neck.

I kick the door backward, breaking the hinge and stopping him for a moment.

“Jackie?” I yell as I pull open the door to my cabin. Even though it’s dark, it only takes me a second to see that she’s not inside.

There are a half dozen places she could hide, but I’m praying she’s not on the boat.

I take two steps up the small stairs that connect to the galley and living room, making my way to the cabin door.

As I reach the last step, a hand grabs my foot and pulls me back.

“Just kill the bitch already.”

Ice runs through my veins. I have seconds.

My fingers grasp the edge of a cabinet as they try to pull me back down the steps. My grip slips on the slick varnish and drops until it finds a brass handle.

I yank the drawer open, hoping I can grasp the inside and pull myself away from them and make it off the boat.

Hands grab both my legs and attempt to yank me down the steps. I hold on to the drawer, but it rips free, the contents spilling onto the deck.

I want to scream but stop myself. You don’t scream underwater. You handle the situation.

“Get her gun and grab a pillow,” one man says to the other.

One pair of hands lets go. The other is still pulling me back.

I claw at the carpet, my fingers grasping at the first aid kit, fishing hooks, and other random items from the drawer.

I touch something wooden. Sense memory and recognition flood my head.

It’s the haft of a fileting knife.

The man behind me gives me another strong tug, trying to pull me into the hallway.

I let him drag me down the stairs, unsheathing the knife as he tries to improve his grip.

Twisting and slashing, I cut into the space where I assume his head would be.

“FUCK!” he roars as blood spatters on me.

I see his thigh in the dim light and stab into it, then twist and rip.

“FUUUCK!” His scream ends with a whimper as he falls back into the other man.

I scramble on knees, gain my feet, and shoot up the stairs.

BANG. Someone fires, the noise even louder than the first gunshot.

I make it out the door and onto the deck. There’s a loud scramble from behind as one of the pair continues his pursuit.