Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans Book 4) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,100

being ostentatious like her father’s yacht, the Black Gold.

Running lights on both ships cast a cool, dim glow over the dark water surrounding them. And Maddy noticed two of the people on the motor yacht were standing on the narrow front deck, watching the activity aboard the cutter. They were both men, both dressed in what she’d come to recognize as standard yachting wear—Polo shirts and blindingly white shorts—and neither of them seemed to be injured. For that, she breathed a sigh of relief and hoped whoever was injured wasn’t hurt terribly bad.

“He said he’s got a bad feelin’ about this,” she whispered to Alex, watching how the two yachters caught the ropes the Coast Guard crew tossed them, quickly and efficiently tethering the vessels together.

Alex frowned. “Looks legit to me,” she said.

“Me too,” Maddy agreed. “But if something is wigglin’ their antennas…” She hooked a thumb toward Mason and Bran and let the sentence dangle.

“Captain,” Bran turned to Webber, a man whose leather face and sun-bleached hair spoke of a lifetime at sea. “I’m gonna take the women belowdecks, and then Mason and I will assume a defensive position, if you don’t mind.”

Webber, behind the controls in the captain’s chair, narrowed his eyes. “You see something that makes you think this isn’t a real Mayday call?” he asked.

“Nope.” Bran shook his head. “But not too long ago I was in a situation where a Mayday ended up in a shitload of bloodshed, and there was nothing to make me think it wasn’t on the up-and-up until the moment guns were blazing.” Sure enough. Maddy had been there too. And in this case she fully supported the History…don’t make me repeat myself slogan on Alex’s shirt. “Let’s just say that since then I’d rather err on the side of caution. Have you…uh…have you checked the radar?”

“Nothing showing up for miles around but a fishing trawler,” Webber reported, motioning with a finger toward the radar screen. “There’s no sign of the dinghy. The two goons are probably out of range by now.”

“Right.” Bran nodded. “But I’d still feel better if we covered all our bases.”

For three ticks of the clock Webber regarded him. Then he dipped his chin. “Do what you have to do to set your mind at ease, sailor.”

Bran nodded his thanks before shepherding Alex and Maddy through the door of the bridge.

“So what does assume a defensive position mean?” Maddy asked, her heart rate spiking as they tromped down the stairs into the belly of the cutter.

“It means we’re gonna arm you ladies to the teeth, leave you with the girls, and play ourselves a little game of watch-and-wait,” Bran explained, motioning them toward the ship’s small galley. “If all is aboveboard? Great. If not, we’ll be ready.”

“Arm us?” Alex squeaked. “Just so we’re clear, I’ve never held a gun in my life.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” Mason muttered from the back of the pack.

“Oh, so now you’re talking to me?” Alex demanded, craning her head around to lift a brow in Mason’s direction.

Maddy ignored them, instead looking at the weapons arranged atop the pristine white dropcloth draped over the galley’s metal trestle table. Bran and Mason’s machine guns, as well as the machine guns the bad guys had left on Garden Key, were in a neat row, paper tags tied around their triggers.

“We were surrendering them as evidence,” Bran explained.

Evidence. Of the carnage that is this night.

“Where is Rick?” Alex asked, reminding Maddy of the young man who’d been dragged into this nightmare with her. “Shouldn’t we be arming him too? Or better yet, shouldn’t we be arming him instead? I’m sure he’d be much better than me when it comes to—”

“He went down in the hold ten minutes ago to check on the bodies and make sure that one-eighty we did didn’t jostle them loose and have them rolling across the floor,” Bran explained.

Ew, Maddy thought, bile climbing into her throat.

“Ew,” Alex said, making a face and proving the two of them had more in common than jabber jaws.

“So for right now, you’re it,” Mason told Alex, grabbing one of the weapons, ripping off the tag, and handing it to her. She held it in front of her like it might be a live grenade.

Bran slammed a magazine into his machine gun and then threw the strap over his shoulder before presenting Maddy with one of the remaining weapons. The assault rifle was heavier than she imagined. The metal was cool and menacing to the touch.