Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans Book 4) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,108

spotted his niece because his eyes filled with tears and his handlebar mustache quivered around the duct tape pasted over his mouth. Bran wasn’t convinced her uncle was nodding so much as trying to get away from the pistol pointed at his temple. But Maddy took the motion as an affirmative.

She made a little sound of relief and tightened her grip around the lip of the windowsill until her knuckles showed white through her skin. Bran longed to go to her, but his need to maintain his firing position stopped him.

“Give me a quick rundown on what the relationship is here,” he commanded. Did he need to take out Mr. Slick, a.k.a Tony? Or should he hold his fire?

“Gene is my father’s younger brother,” she explained in a whisper. “He and Dad started Powers Petroleum together, but Gene’s always been more an idea man than a businessman. He’s real good at beginnin’ things. Not so good at finishin’ them. After a year, he got bored, cashed out, and used the proceeds to start up somethin’ new. He’s been doin’ that for thirty years. Birthin’ new companies and sellin’ them off if they’re profitable. Declarin’ bankruptcy if they’re not.” Her lips twisted with disapproval at this last bit. Despite that, Bran could see her love for her uncle shining in her eyes.

“Three years ago he met Tony, who was workin’ as a mid-level executive at BP.” He assumed she meant British Petroleum. “The two of them concocted a scheme to use Tony’s contacts in the business and Uncle Gene’s family name to start an oil company specializin’ in new and risky means of extracting oil from previously untapped sources like shale grounds, tar sands, and ultra-deep rigs.”

“They’re partners?” Bran asked, scrutinizing the two men.

Maddy nodded.

“So what’s he doing holding your uncle hostage then?” Bran demanded.

“Let’s find out,” she muttered more to herself than to him. Raising her voice, she cried, “What do you want, Tony?” She pushed up slightly, trying to get a better view of the men.

A sense of warning crawled over the back of Bran’s neck like a millipede. “Stay low,” he commanded. “Low, Maddy.” He scanned the interior cabin of the motor yacht through his scope. Or at least what he could see of it through the tinted windows. He didn’t like anything about this situation. He didn’t like that Mason was alone out there. He certainly didn’t like that he had no idea if there were any mercs left.

“We tried asking nicely, Maddy!” Slick yelled. “But your father is a stubborn man!”

Bran could hear the dry sound Maddy’s throat made when she swallowed. “What are you talkin’ about, Tony? Why are you doin’ this?”

Tony darted a quick look over his shoulder, and Bran narrowed his eyes. Something isn’t right.

“We were fine until OPEC dropped the price of oil!” Tony cried, his face ruddy in the yacht’s running lights. Bran bet if he looked through the scope of his rifle at Tony’s eyes, he’d find them as bloodshot as LT’s uncle’s after he’d smoked some of the herb he grew out back of the Wayfarer Island house. For my glaucoma, the crusty old sailor always claimed, although Bran was pretty sure the man’s eyesight was 20/20.

As for Gene’s eyes? Bran couldn’t see them. After the man’s initial scan of the bridge house, he’d let his chin drop against his chest, his thinning gray hair falling over his brow and shadowing his face. He’d stopped struggling, stopped trying to pull away from Tony. Now, he stood there docilely, seemingly resigned to be a victim. It struck Bran as strange. From what Bran knew of Maddy’s family, cowardice and surrender didn’t run in the blood.

“Then the one venture we had up and running wasn’t making enough to fund the expansion of the rest!” Tony continued. “OPEC knew this, knew all the businesses like ours that were finding new ways to extract oil couldn’t bear bargain-basement prices for long. They don’t want us losing our dependence on foreign oil!”

He certainly was Chatty Cathy all of a sudden. The more he talked, the more the mercury rose inside Bran’s internal trouble thermometer.

Something isn’t fuckin’ right. He could feel it.

“They want us reliant on them for our fuel needs!” Tony kept on, talking so fast now that spittle arced from his mouth, catching the lights and glinting on its way overboard. “But we didn’t give up! We just…we just needed a little help, a loan to tide us over until a few more