Stephan picked up the simple radio and answered. “I’m here. On target with cargo.”
“Any trails?”
“None in my visibility. Yours?”
“We’re clear. Continue to target and hold your position once in sight.”
Stephan discontinued the call.
Meg found herself squirming. “Alpha and Beta? That makes them the boss and you their bitch.”
She didn’t see his fist coming until it was on her. She went with the punch as best she could. Pain exploded in her jaw, her teeth cut a nice gouge in her cheek.
“Shut your mouth.”
Yeah . . . that sounded good to her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Val pulled on the dry clothes offered, slipped into ill-fitting shoes, and made his way to the bridge of the ship that picked him up. He wasn’t sure what kind of vessel it was. It moved with the pace of a speedboat but housed a dozen crew members with the capacity of carrying passengers and cargo. The only other similar ships he’d seen were those used by the port authority. This ship, however, didn’t have the markings of the ocean police.
Someone handed him a bottle of water. “Thank you.”
“Glad we can help.”
“Any word on my sister?”
“In the hands of Miami General’s finest.” The captain stopped him before he could ask. “I don’t know more than that. Neil and Rick are back in the sky.”
One down, one to go.
The captain pointed at a map similar to what Val had seen on the helicopter. “She’s here, we’re here.” Some of the dots on the map were lit up. Others were just blips.
“What are these?”
“New players? Someone out on a pleasure cruise? Hard to say without a visual.”
“How do we get a visual without being seen?”
The captain flipped a few switches, a monitor to his left flickered to life. “Bigger toys.”
Val peered closer, realized he was seeing the ocean from thousands of miles above. “Satellite image?”
“Big brother. We just need to narrow our location and focus.”
Val stood back. “Who the hell are you?”
“Brenson, Coast Guard DEA division. I worked with Neil, briefly, in the Marines.”
“You just happen to work in Florida?”
The captain shook his head. “California, actually. He said there was trouble here and I pulled a few strings.”
One of the captain’s men stood on the other side of Val, his binoculars in front of his eyes as he scanned the horizon. “We’ve been on the trail of one of Mexico’s finest, or sleaziest, of pushers. His name is Diaz. We captured some of his men, but none brought us close to how the drugs were making it into the country.”
“Packed in wine crates.”
Brenson shook his head. “Who would have known?”
“I sure as hell didn’t. Alonzo has been shuttling wine to my island for six months. God only knows how much was trafficked right under my face.”
“These guys are good about making innocent people accomplices. The fear of jail keeps them silent once they learn what’s happening.”
Didn’t that sound just like him and Gabi? Not that Val feared jail. It might be worth it to end Alonzo’s miserable life. Val thought of his sister, how she looked as Rick hoisted her limp body into the sky.
And how was Margaret doing? Had she used the gun? Did the man holding her know about it? Had someone injected her with poison?
He shivered.
Jail . . . he could do a little time if it meant Margaret would survive.
Val couldn’t decide if he was making a deal with God or the devil.
Probably both.
Meg tried not to panic when Alonzo’s yacht moved into view.
It had taken over two hours for them to meet, and while she would have liked never to see the man again, she held some satisfaction to know she’d have the opportunity to spit in the man’s face.
The two vessels bumped sides, and Alonzo with three of his men boarded.
“Why isn’t she tied up?” Alonzo asked, his arms swinging in her direction.
“What am I going to do, fucktard? Jump overboard?”
Her head snapped back with the slap of Alonzo’s palm. At least she’d have equal swelling on each side of her face. “I knew you were trouble the minute you opened your smart mouth on the island. Poking your head into someone else’s business is bad for your health, Miss Rosenthal.”
Meg didn’t give him a reason to tie her hands. Keeping them gripped to the railing, she used her words. “Gabi is my business.”
“Because you’re screwing her brother? Or do you consider her a sister?”
He thought calling out what was happening between her and Val would shake her. It didn’t. “Yes, and yes,” she replied.
He laughed. “That would make me your future brother-in-law by marriage, then, wouldn’t it?”
“Why marry her, drug her, then leave her for dead?”
He shrugged, moved away from her to inspect the crates of wine. “Running drugs through the island, making sure Val and Gabriella were tied to me . . . that would keep them silent. Gabi wouldn’t last a day in jail and Val knows it.”
“She’s stronger than you know.”
He moved around the crates and Meg tried to move around the railing to distract him. She didn’t want him noticing the missing portion of drugs yet. Stephan along with one of Alonzo’s men made a show of pointing their guns in her direction.
She held her ground and lifted her hands to her sides. The last thing she wanted was for them to decide frisking her was a good idea.