Page 110 of Backtrack

Pink hit her hard in the mouth with his fist, knocking out a front tooth and breaking the other in half. A week earlier she would have cried her eyes out, probably fallen down out of instinct. If she played dead, maybe he wouldn’t hurt her anymore. Not now. She was too pissed for that. Now she didn’t even feel the punch. As it turned out, watching fifteen million in diamonds slip through your fingers made you stupid brave.

She spat the broken tooth onto the cabin floor and stared him down, bloody drool hanging from her lips. Pink was twice her size. He could have crushed her like a bug. Murdering her right there on a boat with three thousand people wasn’t out of the question. Instead, he stood and looked at her, blinking. That was the thing about his precious inmate code. He’d knock your head off for whistling, or surprising him with an inadvertent touch, but he respected backbone. Oh, he would still likely murder her at some point if she gave him the chance, but the sight of her bleeding from her snaggled tooth made him take a breath.

They stood there panting, eyes locked on each other.

On the phone, Leo issued pointless challenges. “You two knock it off! Pink, I swear, if you hurt her …”

Shayna ignored him. If Ricky wanted to cut her ears off, there wasn’t a damn thing Leo Bouchard could do about it. She had to handle this herself.

“Listen to me, Ricky,” she said. “I am sorry. You are not stupid, not by a long shot. Not at all. I was just pissed. I still am. Understand? I have invested a hell of a lot of time and money into this.” She sweetened the deal. “An investment I thought I was making for us.”

“I’m sorry I broke your teeth,” he said, as if that made them even.

She considered turning and walking out the door. That would have been the smart move, considering how volatile this moronwas. But—the possibility of diamonds was better than the certainty of no diamonds at all.

“Look, Ricky.” She kept her voice low and even. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, hon. I could give a rat’s ass about what you do to that marshal. Kill everybody he loves, torture him to death. I do not give a shit. But I am begging you to let this thing with the diamonds play out first.”

The storm in his eyes began to clear by degrees.

“Okay,” he finally said.

The ship’s horn sounded one long blast followed by three short ones—backing away from the docks.

Pink froze at the sudden noise, hands open and slightly away from his body, as if he wanted to show he wasn’t armed. Shayna hid a smile. Loud noises took the sauce out of him. He’d told her as much, but she’d seen enough movies to know that when the horn blew in the yard, everyone had to get down or risk getting mowed down by someone with a rifle in the guard tower.

The horn and Ricky’s reaction to it emboldened her.

She wiped the bloody spittle from her lips and forced a smile. Her plan had always been to take the money and run. The longer she was with him, the more she realized she wouldn’t have to worry about Ricky Pink chasing her down. Hell, the man was so institutionalized from four decades behind bars, he could barely function in the outside world. He was liable to walk out in front of a bus without her there to help him.

He loomed over her for a full minute, chewing on his stupid lip while he thought his stupid thoughts.

Shayna lifted a hand, holding it in the air until he reached out and took it. She smiled, hoping he saw it as a sign of contrition and not what it was. In many ways, Ricky Lee Pink was still the same fifteen-year-old boy he was when the State of Texas locked him up and threw away the key. When the time came, that would make it a hell of a lot easier to kill the son of a bitch in his sleep. She ran the tip of her tongue over the jagged edges of her broken teeth. They didn’t hurt, yet. She imagined the knife or gun or cast-iron frying pan she would use to put Pink out of her misery. With any luck, the marshal would take care of the dumb bastard for her.

CHAPTER 50

Ajit and Rishi left to attend to departure duties, promising to keep the deputies informed when they’d identified their mole.The Polar Star’s crew pulled her mooring lines at 3:30 p.m. on the button with all passengers—with the exception of Steven Cruz—on board and accounted for. The captain sounded one long blast of the ship’s horn followed by three short blasts, to signify they were backing away and departing the docks.

Joellen called Cutter’s phone an hour later.

“I’m bored,” she said.

“Bored and safe.” Cutter put her on speaker.

“Bored and bored,” Joellen moaned. “Don’t you want to use me as bait? You’ll never catch my stalker if I don’t get out in the open where he can come after me. Let’s go get some dinner. I have a meal credit at The Steak House.”

Lola, who’d been typing up USM 11 incident reports in her room, poked her head around the corner.

“I reckon I could eat a steak,” she said, grinning, turning up the volume.

Joellen mumbled something unintelligible, then said, “Asshole. You’re supposed to tell someone when you put them on speaker.”

“Lola needs to know everything I know if we’re going to protect you,” Cutter said. “You talk to one of us, you’re talking to both of us.”

“Good to know,” Joellen said. “Well, I’m going to eat a steak at five. You two can come if you want.”

“Got it,” Cutter said. “Now, let me explain how this is going to work …”

Located aft on Deck 6, The Steak House was one of the specialty restaurants on the ship, meaning it wasn’t included in the fare.