Capture of the Defiance: Romantic Suspense (Breaking Free Book 2), Page 4

  “Yes,” Makayla agreed. “I have to go. I promised Henry that I would be back in a couple of hours. I also don’t want to get caught in the storm.”

  She started to reach for her purse, but Brian grunted that he had it covered. She murmured her thanks and slid out of her chair to gather the bags and her backpack. Brian quickly paid the waitress and helped her with her purchases. They exited the café and turned left to go back across the street. It didn’t take long for them to return to the bike rack where Makayla had left her bike. Brian helped her load the baskets.

  “It’s a good thing there are three of them on this thing,” he muttered. “I could put your bike in the back of my car and drop you off.”

  “No, that’s okay. It isn’t far to the marina and it is downhill, thank goodness, so it will be easier getting back,” she said, suddenly feeling at a loss. “Brian….”

  “Makayla,” Brian said at the same time that she whispered his name. “Listen, I want to keep in touch with you. Here is my number. Call me.”

  Makayla took the paper he was holding out and nodded. She looked up at him, wondering… Her breath caught when he suddenly muttered a curse under his breath and wrapped his hands around her upper arms to pull her close.

  “I can’t believe I let you go,” he muttered, pressing a hot kiss to her lips before he released her and stepped back. “Call me.”

  Makayla didn’t say anything, she just nodded. At the moment, she was too overwhelmed with emotion, something that she hadn’t experienced since the last time she had been with Brian. Turning, she quickly pushed the bike out onto the bike path and peddled away. Once she was back on the Defiance, she would deal with what had just happened. Until then, she would keep it safely locked away.

  *.*.*

  Brian swallowed and watched Makayla ride away. He didn’t realize his fingers were clenched until he felt his cell phone vibrate. Reaching into the front pocket of his jacket, he pulled it out and glanced at it.

  No change, the message read.

  Brian quickly tapped out a reply before pocketing the phone. Running a hand over his hair, he bit back a curse. Seeing Makayla again had shaken him more than he would have expected. His gaze automatically searched for her, but she was gone. Turning on his heel, he strode through the thinning crowd back to his car. The last few days had been hectic. He knew he probably should have ignored the urge to call out when he saw Makayla, but he had called her name before he had even realized it, held immobilized by shock and disbelief. At first, he had thought he was just imagining it was her. It wasn’t until she had turned around and said his name that he felt like he had been sucker punched.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Hitting the remote, he unlocked the car, pulled the door open, and slid into the driver’s seat. Within minutes, he was navigating his way through traffic back toward the Consulate.

  “Shit,” he cursed, his mind unable to focus on anything but his encounter with Makayla. “Why now? Why here?”

  6

  Makayla pedaled past the guard house after stopping to show him her identification. The wind was picking up and she could feel the first light sprinkle of rain. She knew her cheeks were a rosy color from the cold, stinging breeze coming in off the water and from her bike ride.

  She coasted down the slight slope, turning at the end before pedaling the last few feet to the beginning of the dock where the Defiance was moored. It looked like she would just make it before the rains. She could see the line of showers over the mountains in the distance, and the bay, which had been smooth and calm earlier, was now covered in whitecaps.

  Makayla threw her leg over the back of the bike and balanced on the left pedal while she coasted the last few feet before hopping off. She steadied the bike when it started to tilt, off-balance from the heavy load of groceries. Walking to the start of the dock, she frowned when she saw a man in black appear further down. It looked like he was on the Defiance.

  Pushing the bike onto the dock, she slowed when she saw two other men in similar black clothing appear. It looked as if they were dragging someone between them. It only took a moment for her to realize that it was Henry. She stared at the men in stunned disbelief, unable to comprehend what was going on at first.

  “Hey!” She yelled, leaning the bike up against one of the concrete dock posts. “Hey! What in the hell do you think you are doing?”

  Makayla started forward in fury before she jerked to a stop when the tall, slender man turned to glare at her. Her eyes widened when he lifted his hand and she saw the gun he was holding. Her body was already in motion even before her brain screamed for her to run. She had turned and started back the way she had come when she felt a savage blow to her back. The force of it knocked her sideways and she felt herself stumble and lose her balance. A moment later, there was nothing but empty space before she hit the frigid water and sank beneath the surface.

  *.*.*

  “Get him to the boat,” Ren Lu ordered in Cantonese to the two men with him.

  He turned and strode down the dock, his gaze searching for the woman who had yelled at him. He silently cursed. It had taken longer than he had expected to extract the old man. The rest of the dock was empty thanks to the coming storm and time of year.

  His gaze swept over the bicycle. It was obvious that the woman had just come from the market. He wondered which boat she was on and if there was anyone else that he would have to kill. He stopped and stared down at the dark water. Normally, it would be clear enough to see almost to the bottom, but the rough water and the dark cloud cover made it impossible to see more than a few feet below the surface.

  The temperature of the water was still warm enough to survive, but he had shot the woman in the center of the back, between her shoulder blades. More than likely, the bullet had severed her spine or punctured her heart. Either way, she would be dead. He waited several precious minutes, searching and listening for any unusual sounds in the wind before he finally turned, satisfied that she was dead.

  He ignored the rain that began to fall. Within a matter of minutes, he was on the speedboat that had been docked a few berths down from the sailboat. He glanced back once over his shoulder, a frown creasing his brow as he stared at the receding line of the marina. He would have felt better if he had actually seen the woman’s body. He hated loose ends. Turning back toward the bow of the speeding boat, he decided he would send a man to locate the woman’s body and dispose of it. For now, he had a package to deliver to his employer.

  *.*.*

  Makayla clamped her lips tightly together to prevent the air in her lungs from escaping. She allowed the weight of the backpack to pull her down below the surface of the water. Once she felt sure that she was down far enough not to be seen, she struggled to push the straps weighing her down off her shoulders and let it drop to the bottom. Kicking her legs, she swam underwater until she could make out one of the pillars holding up the dock. Only then did she slowly release the air she was holding and silently rise to the surface.

  It took every bit of her scuba diving training not to gasp out for air once she reached the surface. Instead, she treaded water, keeping her head above the waves, and peered through the slats in the dock. Just as she feared, a moment later she saw the dark shadow of a man in black. He stood on the dock above her, staring down at the water. She could see the black gun clenched firmly in his hand.

  Makayla swallowed, fear threatening to drown her more than the choppy salt water. It seemed like forever before the man turned and walked away. She swam under the dock, trying to get a glimpse of the man whenever he crossed one of the drainage grates. There wouldn’t be anything she could do, but she hoped for some sign that her grandfather was still alive.

  She gripped a mooring line that was hanging down to hold herself in place when she saw the man jump down onto a speedboat. She couldn’t see much of it, but she memorized every inch of what she could see, as well as the man who had taken Henry and shot at her. A few minutes later, the boa
t was speeding across the bay.

  Makayla swam further down and grabbed another line. She didn’t bother trying to climb out yet. She didn’t want to take a chance on being seen and the men coming back. Only when she could no longer see the boat did she swim back to the nearest boat with a dive platform on it. It took several tries before she was able to kick herself far enough out of the water to roll onto it. Her wet clothes were heavy and tried to suck her down. Her back throbbed from where the bullet had struck her. She was just thankful that it had become lodged in one of the items that filled her backpack, probably one of the numerous canned goods or the slab of pork that she had purchased.

  With difficulty, Makayla rolled onto her hands and knees before using the engine to help pull herself to a standing position. She was freezing, especially now that she was out of the water and the wind and the rain were in full force. Her teeth chattered and her body felt clumsy when she reached for the ladder. Forcing her body to move, she climbed up onto the dock. For a few precious seconds, her mind debated if she should run or if she should go to the Defiance. Finally, it was the freezing cold wind and rain that turned her toward the sailboat. She needed to get dry and warm. Already, she could see the tips of her fingers turning blue.

  “Old man, what happened?” Makayla whispered, half climbing, half falling onto the Defiance. “What did those men want?”

  *.*.*.

  Makayla didn’t stay in the shower too long. She was afraid that the men might come back. She wanted to wash the salt water off her and she needed to get warm. The hot shower was the fastest and easiest way to accomplish both tasks. She quickly rinsed the soap from her hair and body before turning off the shower. Grabbing the towel, she dried her body before leaning over and wrapping the towel around her hair. It didn’t take her long to dress in a fresh pair of panties, jeans, thick socks, bra, T-shirt, and heavy dark blue sweater.

  Slowly opening the door, she listened before peeking out of the head. Only when she was satisfied that she was alone, did she step out. She bent and grabbed a pair of black hiking boots out from the storage cabinet under the bed. She sat down on the bench seat by the table and quickly slid her feet into them, weaving the laces through the hooks and tying them.

  Her hands trembled when she saw the bloodstain on the floor near her wet clothes. Standing up, she walked over to the dark red stain and knelt. Her fingers hovered over the spot, but she didn’t touch it. She glanced around the cabin. The men had been wearing gloves, so she doubted there would be any finger prints.

  She needed to notify the police. Her fingers reached for the small purse that she always wore. It was soaked from her dunking in the water. She grabbed it off the floor. Turning, she pulled the towel off her head and spread it over the table. Her fingers trembled as she twisted the catch on her purse. Lifting it, she dumped the contents out onto the towel. Most of the things would be alright once they dried.

  Makayla patted the end of the towel over her cell phone, wallet, and other miscellaneous items. Luckily, her cell phone was one of the new waterproof ones. Picking it up, she realized that she didn’t have a clue how to contact the police in Hong Kong. Shoving the items back into her purse, she pulled the strap over her head and draped it across herself. She reached for one of the rain slickers that Henry kept near the steps leading up to the wheelhouse, pulled it on, and fastened it before pulling the hood up over her tangled hair.

  Seconds later, she was tossing the soaked bags of wet groceries through the entrance of the companionway and onto the bench seat. Once the bike was empty of the heavy weight, she pushed it down the dock and jumped on. Several minutes later and a frantic plea with the security guard, Makayla was in a taxi heading to the nearest police department.

  7

  Makayla rubbed her arms as a blast of chilly air swept through the door when it opened. She turned her head to watch two police officers guiding a very angry man and a pregnant woman into the room and up to the front desk. Despair filled her at the thought of how much time had passed already since the incident down at the marina.

  “Mrs. Summerlin,” a voice called out.

  Makayla started when she heard her name and quickly rose to her feet. She tucked her hair back behind her ear and walked forward to the man standing near a swinging door. She stopped and waited when another officer called out to him. The man quickly answered the other officer before turning to look at her again with an apologetic smile.

  “Mrs. Summerlin?” The police officer asked.

  “Miss… I’m not married,” Makayla replied.

  “Miss Summerlin, please follow me,” the officer said in a polite voice. “Detective Woo will take your statement.”

  “Thank you,” Makayla whispered softly.

  “Detective Woo is one of our finest,” the officer assured her, stopping in front of a small office and waving for her to enter. “She will be with you in just a moment.”

  Makayla nodded and entered the room. She slid down into the hard, dark wood chair, suddenly exhausted. Her hand trembled and she clenched it. She would not fall apart. It wouldn’t help. Henry was in trouble and she needed to keep herself under control. Drawing in a deep breath, Makayla focused on regaining her composure. After several deep breaths, she glanced down at her hand – it had stopped shaking. She would handle this just like she had handled the other difficult situations in her life – by staying calm and doing what needed to be done. Falling apart left you vulnerable and weak. She had learned that at a very, very young age.

  She glanced over her shoulder when the door behind her opened again and a seemingly delicate woman who was probably only a few years older than Makayla stepped into the room. The woman didn’t say anything. She walked past Makayla before pulling out the chair behind the desk and sitting down. She opened the file with the paperwork that Makayla had filled out.

  Makayla silently studied the woman while she read over the report. The woman made several notes, glanced up at her a few times, before making several more notations. Since she wasn’t familiar with police protocols in Hong Kong, Makayla decided it was better to remain quiet until the woman spoke.

  “My name is Detective Helen Woo,” the woman finally said, laying the pen in her hand down on the folder and staring at Makayla with a curious, intelligent gaze. “You are Makayla Summerlin?”

  “Y… Yes,” Makayla started to say. She cleared her throat when her voice broke. “Yes, that’s right. I’ve come because my grandfather has been kidnapped.”

  “You saw the men who took your grandfather?” Detective Woo asked.

  Makayla nodded. “Yes,” she said, raising a hand to her throat. “I’m sorry. I was knocked into the water when the man shot me.”

  “You were shot?” Detective Woo asked, looking at Makayla with an intense gaze. “Where?”

  “In the back,” Makayla replied. “I had just come from the market. I was wearing my backpack. It was filled with canned goods. It is the only thing that saved my life.”

  Detective Woo rose from her seat and walked around the desk. “May I see your back?” She asked politely.

  Makayla nodded and rose. She shrugged off the rain slicker and laid it across the arm of the chair. Next, she gripped the end of her sweater and T-shirt and pulled it upward, keeping her arms crossed in front of her. She watched Detective Woo walk behind her. Once the woman stopped, Makayla glanced over her shoulder.

  “It felt like it hit me between the shoulder blades,” Makayla said.

  A shiver went through her when she felt the gentle touch of fingers between her shoulders. She winced when the fingers slid over a tender area. The woman’s fingers froze and a second later she was returning to her seat.

  Makayla frowned and pulled her T-shirt and sweater down before she sank once again into the hard chair. She pulled the slicker off the arm of the chair and carefully folded it in her lap. Biting her lip, she watched Detective Woo pick up the phone on her desk. She spoke rapidly to the person on the other end. Unfortunately for Makayla
, the words were in Cantonese and she didn’t understand a single thing that was being said.

  Less than a minute later, there was a brisk knock on the door before it opened. The man who had escorted Makayla earlier stepped into the room carrying a tray with two cups and a steaming pot. He walked over and placed it on the desk before he murmured something to the woman. She nodded and replied before redirecting her attention to Makayla.

  She carefully poured some of the hot tea into the two cups and held one out for Makayla. Makayla smiled her appreciation and reached for the cup. She shook her head when the woman offered milk and sugar. Sitting back in the chair, she studied the woman.

  “Did you see a doctor? There is a very large bruise forming on your back and the area is red and swollen,” Detective Woo asked.

  Makayla shook her head. “No. I knew it wasn’t bad enough to see a doctor. I just wanted to get here so I could get help for my grandfather,” she said, sipping the tea to keep from saying anything rude – like quit asking questions and just do something!

  Detective Woo glanced at the report and looked back at Makayla. “The report you gave is very detailed, but I would like for you to tell me exactly what happened. Sometimes, I’m able to pick up things you may have forgotten or didn’t write down,” Woo explained.

  Makayla drew in a deep, calming breath and lowered the cup to her lap. She wrapped both hands around it, appreciating the warmth from the porcelain. Staring directly into the detective’s eyes, she recounted everything that had happened, relaying every detail that she had memorized.

  “I’m a scientist,” she began. “… A marine biologist. It is important to pay attention to details. I left at thirteen hundred hours this afternoon to go to the market for supplies….”