Page 63 of Take Me Back
Whatever it is, I’m going to use it.
It takes about ten minutes of painstaking sawing to cut one rope and loosen the bonds. I’ve also got feeling back in my legs. I have no fucking clue why they didn’t tie them, but their lack of attention to detail is going to save my ass, and Kat’s.
Now that I’ve got a weapon in my hands and only one man to take down, I let all the thoughts of Kat and how fucking terrified she must be rush through my brain.
Now, it’s time for the rage. I need the fury.
Adrenaline dumps into my system.
Ricardo’s attention is on the ocean in front of him, no doubt a route he’s taken hundreds of times if he doesn’t even need a light to find his way. But still, in the dark, his attention is focused.
I use the blackness, the wind, and the crash of the waves to cover my movements and any noise I make.
Ricardo doesn’t hear or feel me rise up to a standing position behind him. And that’s his mistake.
When I reach around and jerk the hook across his throat, he gurgles his last breath before he tips over the side and hits the water with a splash.
The boat jerks to the side, slowing without a hand on the throttle. I grab the steering wheel and whip it around in what I hope is the opposite direction of where Ricardo was heading before hammering it down again.
Looking up, I get my bearings with the North Star. I can’t go back to Sweet Water, but I have to find the genie-in-a-bottle island. There are over a thousand tiny islands off the coast of Belize, and Kat is headed to one of them. The clock is ticking, and I have to find her before they move her again.
I need my team. Some of the best former operators Uncle Sam ever trained are somewhere in Central America right now, and the best shot I have at getting Kat back.
Anya told him to call. He has to have a phone.
It better not have been in his fucking pocket.
I slow down, and working by feel, open a compartment just under the helm. The first thing I touch is a flashlight. Praying for a stroke of good luck, I flip the switch. It turns on.
Thank fuck.
Ducking down, I shine it into the compartment. Two small dry bags rest against the back wall. I grab them both. One contains a radio. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
The second one ...bingo.
A wallet, phone, lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. A human trafficker’s basic essentials. There’s only one thing missing—a gun.
Opening the bag, I pull out the phone and dial a number I’ve had memorized for a decade.
“Cabo Wabo Cantina. How can I help you?” a female voice answers.
“I need a cab.”
She pauses only a moment. “Can I ask who’s calling?”
“Delta Charlie One Seven Four.”
“Hold, please. I’ll transfer you.”
A wave of relief sweeps through me when the next voice picks up. “I thought you were on a fucking vacation, DC.”
“I need the team. Someone took Kat.”
Chapter 29
Kat
The vibration of the engine changes, and I take that as a clue we’re turning and hopefully coming back near Sweet Water.
