“The call letters for Alejandro’s plane … something about that felt right and wrong at the same time,” Britt admitted, taking the coffee from Remi. Amazingly, the woman knew exactly how she liked her coffee, just as Lachlan had.
Remi nodded slowly, walking away from Britt, deep in thought. Britt watched as she moved around the room, then headed to the computer terminal where Sebastian had typed in the information to track Alejandro’s plane. “Come here, Britt.”
She moved slowly toward Remi, stopping next to her.
“Place your hands on the keyboard. Don’t think. Just type,” Remi said.
Britt looked at Remi, encouraged by the confidence in her gaze. “I guess there’s nothing to lose.” Her fingers moved automatically, typing six digits quickly. She stared at the alphanumeric digits on the screen. Remi reached around her and pressed the enter button.
“Now, we wait,” Remi said.
“That’s the call number for my dad’s private plane. I always knew where he was at all times?—”
“Your dad had flown back to Miami before he was killed, right?”
Britt nodded, ignoring the sadness swirling within her.
“So why does this show the plane at a private airfield on Dove Island?”
“Dove Island?” Britt looked up at the screen, touching it to zoom in closer. “Says it landed two hours ago.”
“Just enough time for an attack team to be deployed to St. Felipe, don’t you think?”
“And much closer to here. If I’m right, Lachlan could be on Dove Island with Quattro right now.”
“We have to get word to Everett.” Remi reached for her phone.
“No.” Britt gripped her wrist.
“Why not?” Remi asked.
“Because I could be wrong. If we tell them my hunch and there’s nobody on Dove Island, I will have taken them away from Lachlan when he needed them most. I can’t take that chance,” Britt said.
“But what chance do you want to take instead?”
“I need to get to Dove Island. If there are signs that I’m right, I’ll call you, and you can alert the team. If I’m wrong, I’ll be back within the hour.”
“And how do you expect to get to Dove Island at this time of night?”
Britt bit her bottom lip. “Didn’t you say you and Bobby sailed over from St. Basil?”
Remi groaned, covering her face. “Fine. But you better keep in touch with me. I want regular updates, or I’m calling the guys. Deal?”
“Deal.” Britt held out her open palm.
Remi reached into her pocket and dropped her car keys into Britt’s hands. “I’ll text the captain to let him know where you’re headed.”
Britt pivoted toward the door.
“Not so fast, friend,” Remi said. “You need to make a stop at the armory first.”
Chapter 44
Consciousness returned to Lachlan in waves, each crashing against his mind with increasing intensity. His eyelids felt weighted, but he forced them open. A single bulb cast unforgiving shadows across the room.
A slow blink. Then another. His surroundings came into focus gradually—bare concrete walls stained with rusty discolorations he knew weren't rust at all. Exposed pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping condensation in a steady, maddening rhythm. The air smelled of saltwater and something coppery and organic. Blood.
Lachlan tried to shift his weight, only to be rewarded with searing pain. His wrists were secured behind his back with zip ties cutting into his flesh. Similar restraints bound his ankles to the legs of a heavy metal chair that didn't budge when he tested it. Bolted to the floor. The cold steel pressed against his bare back—they'd stripped him to the waist, likely searching for weapons or tracking devices.
