Anchor

Chapter 7

Gabriel

"Didn't I tell you not to get yourself dead?"

"I'm not dead yet," I tell Tyler over the radio. "Good news, though. Have them move the boat to the back. Jones is gonna let the rest of the hostages off."

"How the hell did you manage that?"

I ignore the question and say, "He took off the explosives so Stevens needs to move his ass before this guy changes his mind."

"They've deployed boats to remove the hostages. You stay there and keep your man calm while we direct them off the ferry."

"I'll do what I can." My voice low, I add, "And see if there is anything you can find about former customers I've had or rescue operations involving anyone named Jones. Maybe someone I dealt with during my time in the Corps. I don't know what the hell this sonofabitch wanted with Emily, Ty, but we need to find out. And as soon as you can."

"Jones," Tyler repeats back. "I'm on it, Gabe. I promise."

"How are things on the mainland?"

"Smooth as they can be. Will you and your lady friend be ready to move if our friends over here rock the boat?"

I hiss out a string of curses, but don't let my body language communicate anything. "Jesus Christ, Ty, are you trying to get me killed."

"Starting to think you're like a cat, Rossi. I'm sure you've got a couple lives left to spare."

"Try not to use them all in one go," I tell him.

After I hang the radio back on the hook, I press my lips into a line and turn to face him. Chloe stands between us, her whole body trembling. I catch her gaze with my own and communicate my concern with a twitch of my brows. She frowns for a second and then she nods. With my hands loose, unassuming and unthreatening by my sides, I take a tentative step toward them both.

Jones jerks his gun and twitches it toward the bench. "No fast movements," he says. "You take a seat there and keep your hands where I can see them."

I do as he says and I keep him in my eyesight the whole time. When I'm sitting with my hands resting on my thighs, Jones shoves Chloe across the room and I catch her just before she goes down on her injured wrist. She doesn't make a sound, but what little color remaining in her face drains away. I try to help her up, but she gives her head a little shake and stands on her own. By the time she collapses in the seat next to me, her lips white. Her body is as taut as a bowstring, but she jerks her chin up and maintains eye contact with Jones.

The stubborn jut of her chin almost makes me grin. She may appear to be an angel, but she's got the spirit of a warrior.

"You two stay right here while they unload the cargo from below," Jones is saying when I turn back to face him. "Put out your hands."

I won't gain anything from arguing with him, so I do as he says, even though it makes my skin crawl to be at his mercy. He zip-ties Chloe's wrists in front of her first and I don't miss the wince when he jostles her injured wrist. It's already turning colors and I'm worried it may be broken instead of just strained.

A chilling grin pulls at Jones' lips by the time he finishes with her and gets to me. First is the collar around my neck followed by restraining my wrists. He's humming and all the earlier tension that seemed to grip him about the surprise visit from the sheriffs is gone. In fact, he seems...happy? For someone with no less than ten weapons trained on him this very moment, he's too relaxed. Especially considering we outwitted him and he's cornered, giving up the one bargaining chip he had. Three hostages—including the captain—is nothing compared to the dozens he's voluntarily giving up.