stopped, the driver slammed the vehicle into park, and turned off the ignition. “We have to jam. Cops on scene, they’ll close off the ports in minutes.”
Ports? Where the hell were they taking him?
“Haul him out, boys,” Hunt told the men watching Sean.
One opened the back of the van while the other took a rope and wound it around Sean multiple times, binding his arms against his sides. They pushed him out and he fell onto hard-packed dirt. The blinding light made him blink rapidly, he could barely make out where he was. But he heard gulls and the sound of the ocean; they were at the Gulf of Mexico.
Two men pulled him to his feet and pushed him along. He tried to drag his feet, but he just fell, and they hauled him up again.
Hunt was leading the way. The second time Sean fell, Hunt stopped, turned around, and kicked Sean in the side. “Don’t fuck with me, Rogan. You don’t want to make me mad. You’ve already been a pain in my ass, and when this is over, I’ll enjoy watching the bullet hit your skull.”
Two goons pulled him up again and held him tight as they crossed the lot to a dinghy on a rocky beach. There were no people around—why? It was a Saturday in April. He squinted to see better in the bright light. This wasn’t a full beach. There was some sort of barrier at the edge of the lot. Maybe they’d blocked it off for privacy; maybe it was closed for another reason.
The boat could only fit four people; two of the men stayed behind.
“Dump the van,” Hunt ordered, “and get back to San Antonio. Elise has been on her own for too long, and when she starts to make her own plans, she fucks up. If anything happens to her, you are both dead, understand?”
“Yes, boss.”
Sean was pushed down into the bottom of the boat. Hunt climbed in and kicked him. “Stay down,” he ordered.
Water soaked through his jumpsuit. The two goons pushed the boat off the shore, then jumped in and started the motor. They headed out to sea.
Sean peered over the edge. If he threw himself off, he would drown. He was tied so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe. He might be able to swim, even with the ropes, but they’d catch up with him. Shoot him or knock him out.
Maybe death would be better than this.
No. Alive, you have a fighting chance. Alive, you can think, plan, plot, get out of this mess. There’s no coming back from dead.
He laid back down and looked at the bright sky through half-closed eyes. In minutes, they slowed down; a shadow cut across their dingy. Sean arched his neck—they had come upon a larger boat—practically a yacht. Hunt boarded first, then the two men lifted Sean on to the deck. One boarded, the other took the small motorboat back to shore.
But it wasn’t just Hunt and his goon. Sean could hear other people on board. Voices. Footsteps. He couldn’t make them out, not what they said or where they were going. Hunt’s man and another grabbed Sean under the arms and dragged him down into the hull. They tied him to a support post and left without ceremony.
Less than a minute later, the engines roared to life and the boat picked up speed.
He was so screwed.
Chapter Thirty-three
HOUSTON, TEXAS
As soon as Megan arrived in Houston, she stuck by Lucy. Patrick was working his own angle to get information about the escape, and Megan was the rock Lucy needed.
Of course she was solid, she was Jack’s wife.
They were in a private room at the jail. The media was gathering outside, and Lucy had seen early reports—Sean’s name had been released and her phone had been ringing constantly. She’d dismissed all the calls. She didn’t want to talk to anyone about what was happening. She could hardly believe it was happening at all.
“Houston FBI wants to talk to you,” Megan said, handing Lucy a bottle of chilled water.
“No.”
“I think you should, if only to tell them you know nothing.”
“I don’t know anything!”
“This is a difficult situation, but anything you know may help bring Sean in safely.”
“What I know is that Sean has been kidnapped by Jimmy Hunt and he’s in grave danger.”
“But he’s not dead, that is a plus.”
“For how long? Megan, I can’t—” Lucy stopped that train of thought. She couldn’t think about what-ifs, not now.
Megan said, “Hunt wants Sean for something. Sean is