Chapter 11 –Rescuing the Captain
Juan roughly shoved me into the largest of the cars parked out front. Four door black sedan, no plates. We were in Mexico though, he didn't need license plates. He got in behind and I tried to inch away from him but the door on the other side opened and another man got in pushing me back. I was squeezed in between the second largest Mexican I'd ever seen and Juan. Neither one seemed so happy to be here. "So," I said and smiled at the two of them. Blood from my head had now slipped off the side of my face and left splatters on my halter top, another ruined shirt. "You're back in Mexico."
"Shut up Jack," Juan rolled his eyes. "Do you know what I do to people who screw me?"
"I could ask your wife," I said. There went my mouth getting about four paces ahead of my brain again.
He didn't say anything but his hand found the back of my head again and slammed it into the glass partition separating the driver from the back seat. He pulled me back and I sat, dazed, and waited for the exploding pain behind my eyes to stop. "I've been nice to you in the past."
"Yeah real nice," I spat at him. "Shooting me and then giving me a concussion screams kindness."
He grabbed at my neck but I flung his arm off, determined not to be surprised by it this time. "You're never on time with deliveries then you expect to be paid full price. You stole a priceless sword," he said. I bit back the urge to tell him there was definitely a price to that sword. I'd lost it once, found it hidden in a storage chest, and fenced it only to find it wasn't worth a fraction of what he thought it was. "And now you kill my men and you didn't even do the job I paid you for."
"You didn't pay me," I pointed out. "And anyways, I tried to tell you when I called that I had been waiting for nightfall before I went to the house," lie, but he didn't need to know that. "But when I got there, the FBI had the place surrounded so I got the hell out of there because really, FBI agents nosing about my business is the last thing I need." My dad always told me I had a tell when I lie. I rambled, on and on until I had dug myself a hole.
"You know, I almost believe you," Juan looked at me and the car came to a stop. "Except there's one tiny thing you didn't factor into your lie."
"What's that?" I asked him.
"My maid, we think she was working for the FBI." I already didn't like where this was going. "I had a security system put in place. The house was covered in cameras and the feed sent right to my laptop." Yup, didn't like where this was going.
I looked down at the back of the front seats where the glass met the fabric. "You killed my men," he concluded.
"I didn't," I said softly.
"You know who did. They carried you out," Juan stretched back as I leaned forward. There had to be an escape somewhere but this time, I wasn't sure where. I didn't have anything he wanted other than the book he knew he couldn't use. "I know who they are."
"What are you planning on doing?" I asked him, sick of the mind games. I didn't want him to have any power over me, nothing to dangle over my head. I wanted him to just tell me if he was going to kill me tonight.
"The FBI is looking pretty hard for them so I figure they have to be around here somewhere. I could use them to buy my freedom."
"I won't tell you where they are," I said and kept looking at my knees.
"I know that Jack," he laughed. "I just wanted you to know how easily it was to find you. Ship with gray sails, Pablo dead."
I had no sarcastic comment or snappy comeback. There was nothing. He opened his door and the bodyguard pushed me out. "Bring her here," Juan yelled. We were the only car around. A field of dry grass was before me and the city lights of Cancun glittered below, beyond that I could see the water. My ship and crew were out there somewhere, probably trying to come up with a plan that wouldn't be quick enough to save me. The bodyguard grabbed my hair in his meaty hand and pulled me along until we were standing out in the middle of the field near a jagged, twisted tree. My eyes darted around as the bodyguard handed Juan a long, semi-automatic gun.
Juan must have seen that I was thinking I could take the two of them because he fired off one quick shot right into my right calf. I didn't feel it at first, like my brain was tired of registering pain, but then it hit me and I fell to the ground onto my knees. "Don't want you going anywhere," Juan smiled at me.
"Go fuck yourself," I ground my teeth together feeling the blood flow from my leg.
"Pity those are going to be your last words," his smile widened.
I closed my eyes and tried to think about pleasant things, my house and the big oak tree my dad was buried under in the back, laughing and watching bad movies with Ellie, floating on my back in the middle of the Pacific, the way Murphy's jeans clung to all the right places. A gunshot rang out and I wondered if I didn't feel it because you didn't feel pain after death. Then again, my leg still hurt like hell and my side was starting to ache again. Another shot followed by several more in quick succession made me open my eyes. Juan fell forward into the grass, eyes open, gaping hole in his chest. The bodyguard fell over about the same time. I crawled over to Juan, tears falling down my face from the pain, and pried his gun out of his hands. I held it out and pointed wildly into the night air. A few more shots pierced my ears near the car and I knew it was the driver. I pointed that way with the muzzle of the gun, wondering what kind of drug war I'd just gotten myself into.
"Was that all of them?"A voice yelled out, Irish voice, laughing voice. Connor.
"Just the three, you bastards!" I yelled and sat backwards, holding my injured leg above the dirt. I set the gun down as Murphy came strolling over.
He kneeled down beside me seeing my face. "Don't cry," he tried to sooth. "They deserved it."
"Not that, moron, he shot me in the fucking leg," I pointed to the blood soaked stain growing on my pant leg. Now I'd need a new pair of jeans too.
Murphy looked down then took my leg in his hands and pushed the pants up to my knees. "Straight through," he commented and gingerly put it back down. He pulled his jacket off and tore a hunk of fabric off the sleeve of his shirt and then wrapped it around my leg to stem the bleeding. "We should get you back to the ship."
"No," I rubbed at my eyes. "I have stuff to do." I pushed myself off the ground and stood up. "Why the hell did you shoot him anyways?" I pointed down to Juan.
"He was going to kill you," Connor said coming up on us.
"So? Lots of people try and kill me!" I yelled at them. "Now people are definitely going to be looking for you," I pointed at the three of them. "And," I continued on. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!" I tried to take a step with the injured leg but nearly fell over. Pressure was not my friend. The blood was still running down the sides staining my flipflops in the process.
"Way to prove it," Murphy rolled his eyes and picked me up in one swift move.
"Put me down," I emphasized every word.
He ignored me. In fact, they all ignored me. We walked over to the car and Connor pushed the dead driver out and onto the gravel road. He got in the driver's seat with Romeo in the passenger's. Murphy set me down in the backseat and slid in next to me. He pushed the partition open so we could talk to Connor. Well, I could talk to Connor. "We're not going back to the ship."
"You're bleeding again," he pointed out.
I shook my head at him, "not really that uncommon with me. More importantly, Juan has a tape of you three killing all his guys back in Miami on his laptop."
"So?" Twins, in unison, creepy. Sort of like Children of the Corn.
"And then you carrying me out instead of shooting me."
"Oh," unison again.
"There's a high-rise back downtown, take me there," I instructed and pointed towards the city. Connor looked back to Murphy but then turned around and started the car.
They parked behind the building. I took the car keys and didn't say anything when they got out. I tried to walk again but ended up hopping a few paces before Murphy picked me up again. "Service elevator," I pointed. Sure enough, one of the keys matched the private elevator and the hole for the penthouse. The elevator stopped at the top and opened into a marble covered lobby. One single door lay ahead.
"Through there," I pointed and tapped Murphy's arm until he put me back down. They just stood and stared. "Well, go. Kill them," they still didn't move. "This is the closest I'm going to come to helping you murder my contacts so I'd suggest you go."
They didn't need any more of an invitation. They pulled the ski masks out of their back pockets and slipped them on over their heads. They broke the door in with little effort. I hobbled over to the door and leaned against the cold walls and looked at my dirty hands. I didn't bother trying to count the shots, I just waited for them to stop.
When the shooting did ease, I went in. Blood splattered the walls of the living room and into the kitchen. The apartment wasn't huge. Living room, open kitchen and dining, hallway leading to the bedrooms. Connor was crossing the arms of the men lying around the couches and placing pennies over their closed eyes. "Effective," I said.
Murphy and Romeo came out of the hall and looked at me. "Apartment's empty," Murphy said and went to go pick me up again but I waved him off.
"Juan said it's all on his laptop," I looked around hoping to spot the computer or at least a computer bag. Juan was smart but he wasn't smart enough to make back-up copies. He truly thought he was going to kill me tonight so there was no need to lie about that being the only one.
We all started to search. Murphy and I headed back down the hallway peeking in the guest bedroom and an office. No such luck. I pushed open the master bedroom door. Juan had chosen a king sized four poster bed made of cherry wood that took up a chunk of the room. Murphy went to the desk while I pulled all the drawers off of the nightstand finding nothing. I bent down on the carpet and pulled the side of the bed sheets up. I knew I was trailing blood all over the cream carpet but hey, Juan wouldn't care now. Instead of the computer, I was met by a pair of brown eyes. "Shit!" I yelled and dropped the cloth scooting back.
"What?" Murphy asked.
"Eyes!" I pointed to the bed. He pushed up the side and reached a hand under. He came back pulling on a woman.
"Please, don't kill me!" She wailed in broken English, tears streaming down her face. Juan's wife, Bianca. I remembered from all the pictures.
"We're not going to kill you," I said softly and stood as best I could. "Where's Juan's computer?"
She stared at me and I wondered how much English she actually knew. She blinked a few times and the tears subsided. "There," she pointed to the tv stand in the corner. Murphy went over and opened the heavy doors and came back with a laptop in his hands.
"Thank god," I sighed and we both turned to her again. "Your husband is dead."
"I figured," she said and sniffled a few times.
"I'm sorry,"
"Don't be," she nearly whispered and took my hands. "Thank you." She hugged me, too tightly at that. My body was getting sick of pain and I was growing weaker.
"We need to go," I looked back to Murphy and then to her again. "I have a ship in the harbor if you would like a ride."
She waved a hand. "No, not me. I've had enough of you people." I didn't like the way she lumped me in with her husband.
Murphy helped me along back through the living room but then handed the computer off to Romeo and scooped me up into his arms. I fell asleep until we got back to the ship when Murphy shook me awake. He helped me back onto the ship where Joey was waiting. "Don't start with me," I warned him.
"What should we do with this?" Romeo asked holding up the laptop.
"This," I pulled it from his hands and tossed it over the side. It made a satisfying plop before I tried to walk away. Then I was back off my feet again and Murphy didn't set me down until I was sitting on the cot in the infirmary. He tore my pant leg off at the knee and looked at my leg again.
"Bleeding's mostly stopped," he commented and went to the supply box. He pulled out the string and needle again. "Do you mind?"
"Not really," I said and leaned my back against the wall. He pulled up a chair and gently picked up my leg. His hands were warm and rough on my skin. They waivered there for a moment before he started stitching. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before." He didn't say anything. "I should have been thanking for saving my life instead of yelling."
"S'okay," he said and looked up at me. "I'm getting used to you yelling at me."
I laughed and ran a hand through my hair. "Says a lot about my character."
He tied off one side and went to work on the back of my leg. I was surprised by how quickly he worked. "You are the most stubborn woman I've met."
"Yeah, but I'm getting better at least apologizing when I've done bitten my own nose off," I smiled at him. He tied the other end off and wrapped a bandage around my calf. His hands fell to either side of my knees.
"I'm glad he didn't kill you," he said quietly.
"Me too," I meant that but not for the usual self-preserving reasons I normally felt. Something was different this time. He kept staring at my face. I leaned down about the same time he start to rise and our lips met gently. I hadn't though kissing him would be so soft. Nor did I expect my heart to start racing and my fingertips to start tingling. I pulled back and looked into his eyes again wondering if I'd lost an obscene amount of blood again or if he had felt that too. I shook my head and stood up. He was a killer and I was a pirate. We didn't get the luxury of tenderness, maybe passionate screwing but I didn't want that from him. At least not while he was still stuck on my ship. Nope, I was determined to blot his lips and hands out of my mind. I wish I'd had thought of that after I let those hands help me back to my cabin instead of hobbling painful step after painful step, alone, as always.
