Suzanne leaned against Ian as they made their way to the tender. “So sorry…” she mumbled. “This isn’t…” Her voice faded before she could finish the thought.
He lifted her, placing her in the boat. A quick check of the guard showed the man was still unconscious. He gripped the rail to pull himself into the boat beside Suzanne, when he heard a boat engine in the distance. He glanced at the empty cables for the second tender.
Who was coming?
“Raise your hands and step away from the tender, Boyd.”
Ian stiffened but kept his back to the speaker. He recognized the voice: Dr. Patrick Hill.
“Raise your hands,” the man repeated.
Ian had no choice and did as instructed. He turned slowly, facing Hill and one of his toadies, whom Ian had met earlier. What was his name? Oh yeah, Carlson. He hadn’t caught the guy’s first name and frankly didn’t care. All that mattered was the guy was as dirty as his boss.
Both Hill and Carlson held guns, which were trained on Ian’s chest.
“You really shouldn’t take off now, Boyd. Your girl is on her way,” Hill said with a snicker. “Things are just about to get interesting.”
Shit.
The engine noise grew louder.
“If she gives me the microchip right away, I might be generous and toss you in the bilge together before I kill you both, instead of after.”
Ian couldn’t hold back a growl.
Hill laughed. “And if she won’t tell me where the tunnel is, I’ll torture her while you watch. One of you is bound to talk.”
Ian curled his hands into fists. Cressida wouldn’t risk coming to the boat when the CIA was watching her every move. She must have hacked the chip and learned Hill wasn’t the good-guy-philanthropist-explorer everyone believed him to be.
Odds were, Hill had guessed that too, but he’d lured her here under a pretense that required her to play clueless. No problem. Ian knew when to call a bluff and when to let the pot build.
Hill had made a reckless bet, because Cressida had Raptor at her back, but dammit, Ian was horrified at the idea of her stepping into the line of fire. If she really did show up on the yacht, when this was over, he and the CEO of Raptor were going to have words.
Ian slammed the lever that controlled the remaining tender. The small boat dropped into the Chesapeake. At least Suzanne was out of the line of fire and couldn’t be used against Cressida.
“You’ll regret that, Boyd,” Hill said. He nodded to his minion. “Take his gun.”
Carlson approached slowly. “It’s too bad, the things that are going to happen to your girl. I liked Cressida when I met her last summer.” The man took Ian’s gun from the back holster and pressed it against Ian’s forehead. He flashed an ugly grin. “She’s got great tits.”
Ian would happily rip his face off.
“What do you think, Patrick,” Carlson asked, “should I shoot him?”
“Don’t be stupid, Perry. Without Suzanne, we need him alive to convince Cressida to talk. I doubt she’ll fret much if we torture Ganem.” Hill cocked his head, studying Ian. “Ganem tipped you off, didn’t he?”
Ian said nothing.
Hill plucked a radio from his belt. “Bring Ganem on deck when I question the girl.” He clipped the radio to his hip again and faced Ian. The engine noise had become a low roar. “Sounds like the party is just about to start,” Hill said.
The barrel of the gun pressed deeply into Ian’s forehead. He could think of no scenario in which he came out of this situation alive.
He had no problem staring death in the face, but fear for Cressida hurt more than any torture Hill could throw his way.
At least he’d told her he loved her. He just wished he’d said it a thousand times in those last hours they had together.
* * *
Cressida recognized a boat identical to the one she rode in floating in the water not far from the massive yacht. She nodded toward the aimless boat as they neared the docking platform and asked the skipper, “What’s going on?”
The man shrugged and eased the boat to the platform. “My job is to drive the boat.”
She slipped her hand in her pocket and pressed the panic button. This didn’t feel right. But she’d insisted on this plan, so whatever happened from here on out was her own damn fault.
The skipper tied the bow to the platform, and she said a small prayer as she stepped aboard and climbed the ladder to the first deck. Her head popped above the side, giving anyone lying in wait an easy target, but no one was on the lowest deck that ringed the yacht.
She continued upward to the next deck, surprised neither Hill, Suzanne, nor one of Hill’s sycophants were there to greet her. Finally she reached the uppermost deck, coming face-to-face with the silent helicopter. Everything was eerily still.
Something was terribly wrong.
“Suz?” she called out. “Dr. Hill?” Ian? But his name was her private, silent scream.
Footsteps sounded, and she turned to see Dr. Hill climbing the stairs from a lower forward deck. “I’m afraid Suzanne has left us,” he said.
Cressida’s heart lurched. What the hell did that mean?
“She took off in one of the tenders. It’s just as well,” the man continued. “I’ve been thinking of breaking up with her.”
Cressida shrugged, unsure what reaction he wanted from her. “Oh…kay?”
Hill crossed the deck and stopped a few feet in front of her. “I have bad news for you. After some thinking, I’ve decided to deny your grant request.”
At that, Cressida let out a sharp laugh. She couldn’t help it. “My grant request? You mean the one I haven’t even written yet?”
“Yes. I received a similar proposal from Todd Ganem. And I’ve decided to go with him.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you did.”
At that moment, a door opened, and Todd was shoved onto the deck. His face was bloody, and he moved slowly, painfully, as if he’d been beaten within an inch of his life.
Dr. Hill’s eyes scanned her from head to toe with an assessing gaze. “On second thought, I’m willing to give your proposal another look, on one condition.”
She gritted her teeth. He wasn’t playing innocent, as they’d all hoped he would. This mission was, as Sean would say, FUBAR squared. She had to buy time until Keith’s team could get here. She turned away from Todd, unable to face the obvious hell he’d gone through—an inkling of what she faced if Raptor couldn’t save her.
“What’s the condition?” she asked.
Hill turned and ever so casually shot Todd in the stomach. “Give me my microchip.”
Horror rippled through her, but she maintained enough semblance of sanity to say, “Your microchip?”
“Yes. Mine.”
Todd groaned, a low grunt of pain that told her he was alive but suffering.
“Hejan told Ian the microchip was intended for the leader of his organization.”
“Yes. Exactly. Me.”