Angel's Hero

Chapter 30

"He shot Jenna?" Michelle was saying, dazed.
Her cheek was already starting to swell where she'd caught it on the way down, on the swinging cabin door, and she'd lost consciousness briefly, but water splashing over the side had hit her and revived her not a minute later.
When she'd opened her eyes, her gaze had fallen on the redhead lying in the back with them, not really taking it in that there was a dead woman lying near her.
She'd scrambled backwards, sitting up, and hitting her back against the high sides, when the empty eyes continued to stare at her, unblinkingly, the bullet hole between her eyes glaring at her.
Angel pulled at the rope tied around ankles with her bloody fingers. The coarse rope had shredded the skin around her fingernails in no time as she'd tried to work the incredibly tight knots loose.
"Why?" Michelle kept her back as close as she could to the cabin doors, out of sight of Owen.
He'd looked over his shoulder a few times to look at Angel.
So far, he didn't seem to notice that they had a stowaway. Angel had held her hands to her mouth as she'd watched her friend fly through the air and then crash down.
"I don't know why," Angel said as she pulled at the restraints around her wrists, feeling something in her shoulder pop at the strain. She pulled harder. "They were together. They were sleeping together, and he killed her."
Knowing that she couldn't let it pierce her, let that knowledge reach through her bravado, Michelle turned away from the body and took in her surroundings. Michelle sniffed at her shirt.
"What's that smell?"
The boat deck was filling with gasoline, mixing with the water that splashed over the side every now and then. The bright orange container next to Angel, that stored the extra fuel, had been hit by the bullet that had killed Jenna, puncturing it's side.
Michelle pulled Angel's feet towards her, remaining out of sight, and used her teeth on the knot, when she couldn't work her fingers into it. Looking around her, she searched for a tool. Not seeing any, she retreated towards the cabin, and opened the door slowly.
Angel kept her eyes on the door once Michelle disappeared inside, still in disbelief that her friend had come to her rescue. Angel was terrified for them both now, even though at the same time she felt strength anew surge through her limbs.
What felt like an eternity later, Angel's breath hitching, a hand appeared around the side of the door, shortly followed by Michelle's head, her eyes locking with Angel's.
Angel looked up to Owen, and nodded for Michelle to continue. The woman moved quickly towards her, producing a small knife she must have found below deck.
Sawing at the thick rope, and being jostled around by the increasingly bigger waves, caused the knife tip to pierce the flesh of her calves a few time. Angel made no sound, even when Michelle lifted her eyes in apology.
She kept her eyes trained on Owen, biting the inside of her cheek to keep quiet.
About fifteen minutes after Michelle had come soaring into the boat in a vision Angel would never forget, the speeding boat slowed. Michelle abruptly stopped.
She'd almost made it through, Angel glanced briefly down her legs, and could see the frayed rope between her ankles would just need one good strong tug, and her legs would be free. Her lower legs had spots of blood where the knife had pricked her repeatedly, and a deep bruise was forming on her calf where Jenna had jumped on her.
The high sides restricted their view while they were seated at the back of the boat. Had they come to wherever their destination was? The engine behind them sputtered, and then cut out. The silence around her was almost deafening after the roar of the motor in her ears for such a prolonged time.
Risking drawing attention to herself, Angel pulled her legs up and slipped them under her to hide the evidence of Michelle's efforts, and also to raise herself up to be able to see over the sides. They were in the middle of the nowhere. She could see the outline of land on her left, but she didn't know what island it was, as the way out into the open water was littered with the rocky outcroppings. Some of them were uninhabited, and only housing monuments. Perhaps they could make a break for shore? Find shelter?
She turned her head, and saw the firework display, just coming to an end, far off in the distance.
It was full night now, and Boothbay Harbor was a long ways away; the huge space between her and home terrifying her.
She fell when the boat bumped against something, and her eyes widened as she saw the small yacht at their side. Her hope that Conner would be able to track this boat disappeared as she realized that Owen had planned out every detail.
They didn't have much time until they were gone, and there wasn't anything anyone could do.
"Shelley, we have to over power him. We cannot get on that boat with him," she whispered furiously to her friend.
"I hope you two aren't planning anything?" Owen suddenly said. He'd moved from his seat behind the wheel to stand over them and stare down at them.
He'd spotted Michelle.
Angel watched as her friend shriveled under his gaze, turning her head away from him.
Then she noticed the knife Michelle was pushing under her leg.
"Angel, you should know better," he pulled the gun from his waistband again. "I killed Jenna to show you how little life means to me. I was sleeping with her, and I ended her existence," he snapped his fingers. "Just like that."
Owen moved to the short ladder that separated the two levels, and climbed down jauntily, a happy bounce in his step. When he turned, he swung his gun hand around, pointing it first at one woman and then the other. There was a maniacal glint to his eyes.
He'd cracked. When he laughed loudly, arching his back, relishing in the power he wielded, Angel shook her head at him. His reality had shifted, and now he was living in a world of his own, with his own rules. This made him more dangerous.
If they were going to survive this, she and Michelle had to do something, now, before either of them got onto the yacht. Angel looked around her.
She noted the flare box fixed to the side of the cabin, behind the swinging door, near to Michelle.
She glanced down at the liquid sloshing around her. Looking at Michelle, sending her every meaningful frown and glare she could, she hoped her friend understood.
Owen all but ignored Michelle, not acknowledging her as a threat, maybe because he'd overpowered her so many times before. He stepped to Angel, carefully lifting his feet over the tangle of rope.
She scooted away from him. Her move futile as he reached her quickly, and with a vicious rip, pulled the rope off her ankles. The motion flipped her over onto her stomach, landing in the large puddle at the back of the deck. Pushing to her feet and limping slightly, she scowled at Owen as he stood there watching her, enjoying seeing her distress.
She glanced down at herself, the material of her shirt was plastered against her skin, and the dark circles of her nipples were clearly visible, even with the white tank she wore underneath. The light on the helm near the steering wheel lit up Owen's profile, and enough light reflected off the white of the fiberglass interior of the boat to illuminate the other side.
He was staring at her, his gaze fixed on her chest. Her skin crawled as his eyes travelled over the full length of her, licking his lips. He repulsed her.
"So, Owen. What's the plan? You wanna fuck me here? Or do you want to play a little first?"
Angel pulled her shoulders back, as best she could with her hands still secured in front of her, and brought her fingers to her chest, to the buttons there, slowly undoing them.
His response was kneejerk. Eyes widening, he took a step towards her, as if to grab her, but he stopped himself.
He seemed to be fighting an internal battle. Angel moved closer to him, and leant back against the side of the boat next to him, dropping her hands, and arching her back more, lifting her chin and exposing her throat.
This close to him, she could see his eye were wild. He was crazed.
This was not the same, sane man who had planned out this attack. This was the insane man she'd faced down once before when he'd nearly killed Michelle. She wondered what had triggered him?
Had it been killing Jenna? Or had it happened before? Angel didn't care.
A crazy man was easier to take down. Easier to rile up and get to attack. Bring them to you where you can control the situation. It didn't matter how dangerous he was - they were in danger as long as Owen stayed in charge.
"Get on that boat behind you," Owen said, licking his lips again. "I'll have my way with you before making you cry out in pain. Maybe I'll even do both at the same time," Owen leered at her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I always knew you were twisted like me. I always wanted to test your limits. Picked the wrong girl that night in the bar. Should have gone with you. Instead, I got a lousy lay, and a weak wife. No challenge. Kept her around to keep you around. Planned on taking you next. But then you went and ruined it all."
She kept her face neutral as her skin crawled, letting him ramble.
"I need my hands, to climb over," she said, holding them out, indicating with her head the higher railing of the yacht.
Their boat had bounced against the yacht, and when Owen hadn't tied them to it, the gap between boats had begun to grow as the smaller one started to float away, pushed by the current and soft waves. Angel had to keep him distracted from that.
"Don't try anything now, or I put a bullet in that one's head," he said pointing at Michelle.
He flicked a long blade from the sheath tied to his lower leg, one she hadn't noticed before against the black of his pants.
His blade, infinitely sharper than the one Michelle had tried to use, made quick work of the thick rope around her wrists. Once free, she leaned backwards again and went back to keeping his attention.
Angel kept his eyes on her by moving her hands up and down her chest, to her waist, to the front of her cut-off jeans, dipping into the hollow there, then back up again.
"Why didn't you ever take me, Owen? All those months?"
Angel could see Michelle crawling towards the flare box, her hand reaching out to open the bright orange container.
As her hand landed on the lip of it, about to swing it open, a sound echoed through the night sky.
"What is that?" Owen looked up and out over the ocean back towards the harbor.
A helicopter had taken off from the helipad, and it's searchlight beam shone straight down. They could see the light as it moved around as the helicopter hovered over the bay.
Hope soared within her. She could see the marina alight, and the vague outline of boats being mobilized.
They were going to be saved. They just had to make sure Owen was stopped. Angel wanted him rotting in prison.
Michelle pulled the flare gun from box, and bumped the lid, which swung shut, the sound drawing Owen's attention.
He raised his gun towards his ex-wife, a half smirk curling his insane face.

*

"Goddammit! Hurry!"
Conner wanted to race ahead.
He didn't want to wait for the agents gathering their gear on shore.
Robert pushed through a group of deputies who had been called to keep the crowd back as they mobilized their troops. Du Pont had gone on the radio to call her guys in, and a number of residents had responded, having hacked the channel, wanting to help.
It warmed Conner, even as the ticking clock chipped away at his nerves. One of his deputies had been the first to arrive at the marina, with the keys for the Sheriff Department's boat. He sat in it now, waiting.
He looked over to where his father had gone to man the helicopter, the blades whirling the air in the bay into frenzy.
They'd raced from where they'd seen Owen disappear up to the road, and around to the bay that held official vehicles, and the helipad.
As the chopper moved over them slowly, Conner looked up.
The usual pilot was three-sheets-to-the-wind, and they didn't have an hour to wait for the next available person.
Thank you, Dad.
Thudding drew Conner's attention back to his friend moving towards him along the dock.
Robert didn't slow. He jumped.
As soon as Robert's feet hit his boat, Conner took off, Du Pont be damned.
He'd answer to her later.
He had to get out there; he had to find Angel.
Conner heard the shouts behind him as Du Pont raced to the dock calling him back.
The agent had arrived to co-ordinate the situation shortly after he'd placed the call and tried to tell him to step back, and wait. He'd told her he wouldn't be left behind.
But he'd neglected to mention that he wouldn't wait.
He'd signaled to Robert, and used his eye to point out he was slipping the key into the ignition.
Then he'd silently gone and released the ropes tying the boat to the dock.
Putting the throttle down flat, the nose of the rubber duck lifted high out of the water, before it leveled out, racing out of the bay.
Robert came to stand beside him, and hit the large searchlight in front of the steering wheel, illuminating the waters in front of them, and the smaller fishing boats moored there in deeper water.
Following the direction his father had taken in the chopper, Conner pushed the boat's engine to it's maximum until he caught up with the beam. The searchlight hovered over their boat for a second, before surging ahead.
Conner had no idea which way to head out into the darkness.
He could see some lights from the bigger boats moored further out to sea, but the rest was a black pit. There were slight patches along the horizon, where he could identify the small islands. Had Owen taken them onto shore on one of them? Or had he continued out to sea? Had he doubled back along the coast and had a car waiting?
The options here were endless, and the sheer volumes of possibilities were overwhelming. The realization that he could never find her slammed into him, freezing the breath in his lungs. What should he do?
Best to stick with their original idea of searching the watercraft, before moving to land. It was all they could do now.
"Try that one first," Robert aimed his light to the closest vessel.
They couldn't make out the shape of the boat until they were almost upon it, and instead of stopping to climb aboard and inspect it, Conner circled it, while Robert expertly trained the light on it, lighting it up well, so they could see all sides of the large vessel.
No fishing boat at its side indicating it was the one.
Conner aimed the nose out towards the next closest boat. Again, they performed the circling-and-light-it-up move, while his father used the helicopter to search other vessels. Nothing.
They did this around three more.
It was slowing them down, and Conner couldn't help but think about how much time had passed, and what Owen could be doing to Angel and Michelle right then.
"Come on," he muttered as another circled boat turned up nothing. "Where are they?"
A gunshot rang through the air, and a flash of light lit up in the corner of his eye, off in the distance.
Conner blinked, and lost it as he moved his head towards where he thought it had come from. He couldn't see it.
"Dammit! Where did that come from?"
Robert swung his light around, in the rough direction of where they thought it came from.
The radio crackled.
"Gunshot to the south east."
His dad's voice came over with the static.
"Headed that way now," Conner said as other voices radioed in, too.
In his pursuit he'd forgotten there were others searching behind him. How far behind him were they?
Du Pont and her small team had been figuring out their next move when he'd left them. Had they decided on land or sea?
He looked over his shoulder and the sight behind him sent shivers down his spine.
Some residents had broken through the line of his deputies, and were now racing in his wake, accompanied by the two boats holding the agents. Some of his deputies had even joined the residents.
With the chopper overhead and its searchlight aimed forward, toward where his father had had a better view and spotted the gunfire, the line of boats all headed to the rescue.
It reminded him of the frontlines, when his team had been jumped one night, and the approaching enemies had lit up the battlefield.
Except this time, he was on the advancing side.
"We're coming," Conner said as more gunfire pierced the air. "We're almost there, baby. Just hang on. I'm coming."