Lucky the Hard Way Page 8

  Romeo kept close. “Creepy, huh?” he whispered as he helped Frank down the aisle, escorted him to a chair in the middle of a sea of them, then handcuffed him to the armrest of a chair bolted to the deck. Romeo took the term “secure” seriously. Personally, I thought the sharks in the South China Sea were enough of a deterrent, but what did I know?

  The young detective returned to stand at my shoulder, joining me to stare into the inky darkness.

  I picked up where I left off. “Everything about this has my teeth on edge.”

  He wiped a hand across his eyes—they were red-rimmed and a bit bloodshot. “You’re just tired.”

  Ah, the complete cluelessness of inexperience. “Maybe so, but keep at the ready. We’re strangers here, and we’ll never see them coming.” I still couldn’t shake the feeling I’d missed something, something big.

  Once at sea and up to speed, the hydrofoil riding high, I started breathing a bit easier. The FBI would be waiting for us in Macau, a short sixty-minute ride. Sixty minutes. Ready to offload Frank Cho and scurry into the comforting world of our casino, to me sixty minutes sounded like a lifetime.

  The emptiness of the jetfoil added to my discomfort. Sometimes one could hide in the crush of people. Here, we were exposed. Unfortunately, the FBI hadn’t seen fit to have them open the bar for our journey. Probably just as well.

  There was Sinjin to find.

  If Minnie had been jerking my chain, I’d shoot her myself when I got home.

  And there was Teddie to think about.

  I wondered where he was. Was he okay? I hadn’t let myself think otherwise—to think it would make it real. I had to believe he was alive and well and waiting for me to show up so we could kick some ass. Maybe he even had some answers. Or maybe he knew who the hell Sinjin was.

  Yeah and maybe he’d jump out of a friggin’ cake dressed in a hot pink tutu and tell me this was all big joke.

  The joke wasn’t happening. But the tutu? My mind wandered to my closet…a fashion show…his arms around me….

  “Help me.” I tossed the words out of the side of my mouth to Romeo.

  “What?” Looping an arm around my shoulders, he gave me a quick squeeze.

  Curiously, I felt comforted. “I’m going all Throw-back Thursday, trippin’ down Memory Lane.”

  Romeo jammed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Teddie’s a nice guy.”

  Jeez, maybe the kid was right and everyone could read me like six-inch-tall letters on a well-lit billboard. “Not helping.”

  He shrugged. “Quit worrying about it. Your heart will choose.”

  “When did you get all grown-up on me?”

  “When you weren’t looking.” He didn’t smile.

  “A lot of stuff had happened while I wasn’t looking. What time is it?” I asked Romeo, as if he would have a clue. We’d wasted time getting off the ground in Vegas, and then a whole lot more jumping through official hoops in Hong Kong.

  He pulled out his iPhone and worked some magic. “Dinner time, if you like a stylishly late dinner.” Pleased with himself, he glanced up. At my scowl he said, “Just a touch after eight p.m.”

  “What day?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Terrific, we lost a day already.” So now five days to accomplish the impossible. I mentally ticked through the schedule: find Teddie, find Sinjin, set up Mr. Cho, leave Irv holding the bag. Still doable. It’d be tight, but marginally within my superpowers. Yes, I laughed at myself, but at some point, my luck would have to turn.

  “But we’ll gain the time going back.”

  “Small consolation, but I’ll take it.” Antsy, I stared out the window into the darkness, wondering about the lights on the shore. The moon had yet to rise and the water was dark, the land only sparsely dotted with lights. Other boats, their lights shining in the distance, helped me feel not quite so alone. For a moment, I marveled at being here—just a half a day ago, a little more, I’d been in Vegas, wrapped in Jean-Charles’s arms, secure in my ignorance of the precarious financial situation my family now found itself in.

  “Why didn’t the FBI meet us here?” Romeo asked, breaking my reverie.

  “Everyone thinks Hong Kong and Macau are both parts of China now, but that’s not entirely true. The Chinese Government runs each as Special Administrative Regions with their own governments, sets of laws, police, and all of that. So, there are borders between Macau, Hong Kong, and mainland China. My guess is the FBI has established itself in Macau and didn’t want to go crossing borders and raising eyebrows.”

  “Does that seem kosher to you?” Romeo was definitely learning.

  “Yes and no. Stokes was holding things close to the vest, riding under the radar. But I’m sure the presence of the FBI doesn’t go unnoticed. Someone had to have had eyes on them or he would’ve met us. Maybe it’s best this way—if no one pays much attention to us, then maybe we can sneak in unnoticed.” No maybe about it—I was banking on it.

  Romeo pulled a pistol from the holster under his left arm and racked the slide—one round chambered. I didn’t know whether to feel comforted or alarmed. Guns made me twitchy. I was more of a hand-to-hand kind of gal. When push came to shove, I wasn’t above breaking a nose or two, but I probably would always run like hell when presented with the opportunity. Live to fight another day and all of that.

  All this pent-up energy had me ready to explode. Having sat on my ass for the better part of fifteen hours, I could feel it expanding by the minute—Mona would be apoplectic. I needed to walk—for my ass and for my nerves. My staff used to tease me about going on my walkabouts through the hotel—a habit that settled my nervous energy and helped focus thought. Here, a walkabout was problematic. Streamlined, the boat didn’t have a walkway around the outside. Okay, I couldn’t walk, but I could get some air at the rear. After checking that Frank was secure, I left Romeo in charge and opened the back door, stepping as close to the edge as I dared.

  Salt spray riding the wind scoured me as I stepped out of the doorway, then ducked around to the fantail. Mother Nature delivered the wet cold slap that I needed.

  The noise of the engines, a dull thrum inside, grew louder with the door open, drowning out anything else. Impossible to hear, impossible to see, impossible to completely avoid the spray and the wind, this still beat sitting inside on go with nowhere to…go.

  I hated not being in control. Worse, I hated not even being able to conjure the illusion of control.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. Terrific. I pulled it out and squinted against the spray. A number I didn’t recognize. I tucked back inside just a tad, sheltering myself from the elements. It took three tries sliding my finger across the face of the thing before it finally let the call through.

  Jamming a finger in my open ear, I pressed the phone to my other. “O’Toole.” I raised my voice, but didn’t shout.

  “Lucky?” The voice was small, scared…familiar.

  “Who is this?” I squeezed back up into the far the corner of the main salon—it was the only place I had hope of hearing anything.

  Frank Cho gave me a disinterested stare, which told me he was anything but.

  “You know who this is.” A female voice. “I used to work for you.”

  Kimberly Cho.

  A chill chased through me. Funny, I was expecting the hot prick of anger. “Still do, as far as I know.”

  She didn’t argue the point. “Don’t say anything; just listen. I know you don’t trust me.”

  “With good reason.” I closed my eyes and pressed the phone to my ear as hard as I dared, as I concentrated on the sounds in the background. A continuous pulsing noise hard to identify. “Where are you?”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “Of what?”

  “People are not who they seem. I can’t tell you more, not now, not here, but don’t trust anyone.”

  Noise in the background. Music. Shouting. I thought I’d lost her. “Are you there?” I shouted against the noise
, against my fear.

  “You’re coming; I know. You have…” The line went quiet.

  “Yes.” I knew she meant I had Frank. Someone must be listening on her end. She seemed to be choosing her words almost as carefully as I was.

  “I need your help.” Her voice was stronger now.

  And I need your father. I wanted to believe her—she’d never given off even a hint of bad. I’d be willing to risk a lot to find out if I was right. I wanted to look into her eyes as she told me her story—then I would know. “Where can we meet?”

  “I’ll find you.”

  With that she was gone.

  The boat fled through the night, the engines roaring, the wake a swirling and iridescent tail behind us.

  Darkness had fallen, but on which day? Romeo said tomorrow. So the twenty-seventh? Crossing the International Date Line always messed me up. While I liked the idea of reliving the day going home, I didn’t like losing one coming west. And this time less than most—time was precious enough as it was. Especially with no do-overs, just do-mores, as if I didn’t have enough to do already. And now I had to worry about Kim Cho and how she factored into all of this.

  The night sky was an inky black, the stars gauzed by the humidity. And the temperature was cooler than I’d expected, or maybe I felt it more with little sleep and even less food. Tugging my sweater tighter around me, I shivered, but welcomed it as the fuzziness of travel left me and my thoughts cleared. This operation would take cunning and subtlety—neither of those were strong suits.

  Lost in that imponderable, I staggered when something hit us from the side. I grabbed a handrail with one hand but still was thrown to a knee. The boat slewed to the side, yawing.

  Holding tight to the rail, the twist threw me around. My knees absorbed my fall, skin scraping raw on the rough deck surface. Then I pivoted around my arm, my hand a vise on the metal, cold and slick with spray. The torque wrenched my shoulder, but I wouldn’t let go. Finally, the boat wallowed. I landed on my butt, my back to the railing. The burn of pain. The heat of anger…and fear.

  Someone pulled the engines to idle and the boat settled into the water. The deck leveled.

  I waited several heartbeats before I reached up with my free hand and pried my fingers from around the railing. One fingernail was bloody, my knuckles scraped raw. Pushing up, I glanced inside. Romeo lay draped over three chairs. Frank was in the aisle, sitting next to his chair, holding his arm. The jolt probably wrenched it pretty good, handcuffed as he was.

  Squinting against the spray, which was much less now, I looked for what we had hit, or what had hit us.

  The black hull of another boat angled into us. With the roar of the engines idled, I could hear the thrum of the other boat as it maneuvered to come alongside.

  Figures moved like wraiths over the deck.

  Excited shouts ripped the eerie quiet. Several shots hissed over our heads.

  On hands and knees, I got my feet under me. As I started to turn and run toward the bridge, a shot at my feet stopped me.

  “Hands up.” Masculine. Sure. With a hint of British.

  I did as asked, turning toward the voice.

  He kept his face in the shadows. His four other henchmen, all armed with automatic weapons, did not. One had his weapon trained on the bridge where I guessed he was holding the captain.

  The others scurried over the side. With automatic weapons held across their chests, they brushed past me into the main salon. One figure, lithe and small—the hint of a dragon tattoo on the forearm.

  Her eyes lingered on mine for a moment.

  Yep, I’d missed something big.

  Who the hell were these people? Cho’s men?

  Hands in the air, Romeo looked around them at me, a question on his face, easy to interpret. I shook my head. There were too many. Live to fight another day and all of that.

  Still, I seethed and looked for any possible opening, a weapon close at hand, but…nothing. Romeo must’ve let them take his weapons, then he tossed them the keys to Frank Cho’s handcuffs.

  With one guy in front and the young female with the tattoo trailing, they escorted Frank and Romeo single-file. She was the chauffeur. Hat too big, sloppy uniform, and I’d missed it. Well, not missed it, but the significance had been lost on me. And I’d lost the chance to gain the upper hand.

  This was my fault.

  They came through the door I had been standing in, elbowing me out of the way.

  The man in front stepped near me, motioning Frank over the railing. Frank didn’t need to be asked again—he hopped over, landing on the deck of the waiting boat. From below he gave me a look—I couldn’t read it. Then the woman behind prodded Romeo with the barrel of his gun. “You, too.”

  “No!” I shouted. Without thought, I lunged for the man behind Romeo.

  The woman stepped near, swinging the butt of her gun. I ducked, but she caught me in the temple. I staggered. I thought I heard her whisper, “It is best.” Then she hit me again.

  My world went dark.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SOMEBODY slapped me lightly on the cheek. “Lucky?” A man’s voice. One I knew.

  He slapped me again, harder this time.

  Anticipating his next slap, I reached up and grabbed his hand before he made contact. “Stokes, you hit me again and I’ll break your arm.” My head hurt like a mother as it was.

  “Right.”

  I felt him move back a little, giving me room. Wherever I was, the floor beneath me was cool and wet. I tried to remember. The plane. The boat. I bolted to a sitting position. “Romeo?” My world spun, but I gritted my teeth and pressed my hand to my temples. “Damn.” An involuntary epithet as I forgot and pressed where the butt of the gun had raised a large goose egg. “Where’s Romeo?” I reached out, grabbing Agent Stokes by the front of his all-black shirt, and my world steadied a bit. Blinking furiously, I worked for focus. “You have him? You got him back, right?”

  “No.”

  “We’ve got to follow them, get Romeo back.” Leaning on one hand, I tried to lever myself up. My world spun and I sagged back. Panic flooded through me. I couldn’t lose Romeo; I just couldn’t. The thought squeezed my chest until I fought for breath. “You’re going after them, right?”

  Stokes still sported a crew cut and the square jaw. The hard eyes were new. “Your ship was boarded. You were no more than twenty minutes out. They took Romeo and Frank Cho. The captain brought you in.” He pointed to my temple. “You’ve got a nasty bump.”

  My eyes went slitty. “Curiously, in Vegas they don’t grow women as stupid as you think they do. What part of all that did you think would be news to me?”

  His skin flushed pink—probably from anger, but it should’ve been from embarrassment.

  “Where did they go?” I asked, trying to ignore the pounding in my head.

  “I don’t know.”

  I tried for patience, then gave up. “Damn it, Stokes. What’s the IQ the FBI requires now? Single digit? Which direction did they go?”

  “Back toward China.”

  “The Fire Swamp,” I whispered. We were on our own. And Romeo was God knew where. My vision cleared a bit and I focused on Stokes. And I had to deal with a Rodent of Unusual Size, lucky me.

  “What?”

  “Movie reference.” I extended my hand. “Make yourself useful, if possible. Find that boat and the smug English guy who stayed in the shadows.”

  “Everyone around here sounds like they’re British. You didn’t see his face?”

  “No, I didn’t. But you let them take Romeo,” I said, which was only a small part of the truth. I’d let them take Romeo. And I couldn’t live with that. So intent on my own weak hand in this game where folding wasn’t an option, I’d been blind to life upping the ante.

  Stokes didn’t offer a platitude, which was the only thing that saved him from a broken nose. No, I wasn’t above taking my anger out on him—a character flaw I’d live with.

  “Why didn’t you
come get us?” Shaking shivered through me, rattling the last shreds of confidence. How could I have let this happen? “This is your territory; you’re running the show. You wanted to be in charge. Worse, I let you run the show. Fool me once, Stokes.” My fists balled at my side—an involuntary fight reflex.

  Stokes seemed unaware of how close to serious bodily harm he was. “They were watching us. We didn’t want to alert them to your arrival. Frankly, I have no idea how they found out you were coming in tonight. Are you sure you kept it in-house, with only your father in on it?”

  That redirected me—a leak, an inside job? I didn’t want to admit it, but it was a good explanation, but one among many. “The pilots knew, of course, but they’ve worked for us for years; we went through that. And don’t go putting your screw-up on me.” Minnie had known, maybe. If not known, then certainly expected. But she hadn’t known when. And since she’d been shot, I doubted she’d had the ability to crow about it. Secrets so hard to keep—I don’t know why I’d thought this one would be any different. Maybe because it’s Christmas.

  Most likely because I’m a fool.

  “We’re debriefing the pilots, looking for any communications out of the ordinary,” Stokes said with the flat affect of a federal intelligence officer, which, in his case, inflated the oxymoron.

  Anger brought me back to normal—well, except for my head, which felt like it had a meat cleaver buried three inches deep. “Feds.” I shook my head, then instantly regretted it as my brain oozed out my ears. “A great cleanup crew, but as a lead-off hitter, you guys suck. You need to learn how to stay one step ahead, Stokes.” I chastised him, but really it was time to clean my own house before I started ridiculing anyone else for their dust bunnies under the couch.

  Stokes stood, then extended me a hand. Small consolation, but he looked pretty bummed about the whole thing. Still, I really wanted to rearrange his nose. I had no idea what the penalty was for assaulting a Fed was, but I was perilously close to throwing caution to the wind and learning the hard way. Wouldn’t be the first time.