Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans Book 4) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,111
send up an explosive plume of water on impact.
Lifting his weapon, he looked through his scope and was dismayed to see a second man appear beside the first one, another rocket launcher at the ready.
“Again!” he yelled when the second weapon belched up its projectile. “This time hard to port!”
The cutter sliced through the ocean like the war machine it was, easily parting the waves as its big engines roared with happiness. The second rocket missed by nearly twenty yards, and Bran steadied himself against the new list of the ship. He sighted through his scope, pleased to see the fishing boat was no match for the Coast Guard’s ship.
When he assured himself they were outpacing their pursuers and the reach of their rocket launchers, he dropped his M4. The next instant, he pulled Maddy into his lap.
Chapter 26
9:48 a.m.…
“Coffee?” Maddy glanced up to see a Styrofoam cup steaming in front of her face.
“Bless you,” she told Rick, curling her frozen fingers around his offering. For some reason, she couldn’t get warm. It was probably eighty degrees outside, but she was freezing. Feared maybe all the coldness was coming from her heart. From deep in her soul.
“I can’t vouch for the quality,” Rick warned. “But it’s hot. And if the muddy color is any indication, it’s strong as hell.”
“I need strong as hell right now. I feel like I’ve been awake for a decade.”
They were in the bowels of the Coast Guard station on Key West in some sort of utilitarian-looking conference room with no windows. So when she glanced at the clock loudly tick-tocking on the wall, she couldn’t be sure if it was morning or night. She just knew she wanted sleep. Days of sleep. Weeks of sleep. As her grandma Bettie would’ve said, she was too pooped to pop.
Taking a sip of coffee, she closed her eyes and welcomed the burn. It made her feel something besides the cold of the AC units and the crushing despair of her uncle’s last minutes. Rick was right; it was strong enough to raise a blood blister on a boot. Just what I need.
When she blinked her eyes open, she smiled her thanks and indicated the metal chair next to her.
“I think I’ll just keep standing, if you don’t mind.” Rick blew across the top of his cup. “I was sitting in that chair in the interrogation room for so long I think I may have permanently flattened my ass.”
“Do we still call it an interrogation room if we’re not criminals?” Maddy asked, taking another sip. Come on, caffeine. Keep workin’ your magic.
“I felt like I was being interrogated,” Rick said.
When they’d arrived at the Coast Guard station, they’d been met by a swarm of FBI agents. Apparently, crimes in national parks and in U.S. territorial waters fell under the purview of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
“I think I answered more questions this morning,” Rick continued, “than I have in my whole life up to this point. How about you?”
“Mmm,” she hummed noncommittally. The FBI questioning had been intense. No doubt. But the CIA’s questioning after the hijacking of her father’s yacht had been worse. Of course, she couldn’t tell Rick that.
“Everybody else still being raked over the coals?” Rick asked, looking around the empty room.
“I don’t know about Bran or Mason,” she told him. “But according to Agent—” She blinked and shook her head. She’d spent hours in a little room with the FBI agent and she couldn’t remember his name. Her brain was mush. Her heart was pretty much the same consistency. “I’m totally blankin’ on the guy’s name,” she admitted. “Thomas or Thomson or Tomlinson. It’s somethin’ like that. Anyway, he told me they’d taken the girls to grab some food and make calls home to their parents. He’s supposed to bring them here in a bit so we can board the private plane my father sent to take us h—”
Her throat caught. Thoughts of her father inevitably conjured up thoughts of her uncle. If she lived to be a thousand years old, she’d never forget the awful look on Gene’s face right before he pulled the trigger.
“Hey.” Rick slid out the chair beside her, plopping down and throwing an arm around her shoulders. The weight of it felt immense. Everything felt immense. All the violence. All the death. All the loss.
“And for what?” she whispered, searching Rick’s youthful face for answers.
“What?” He blinked his confusion.
“This night,” she said, setting her coffee on the table so she