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A sharp pain shot through her neck. She turned her head to assess the damage. The red tip of a dart protruded from her flesh. Her legs turned numb. When she hit the ground, Eduardo cut the smartwatch from her arm and crushed it under his heel. The world tilted. The last thing she heard and felt was Darren’s curse and his blood seeping through the fingers she’d pressed on the hole in his chest.
Chapter 17
Maya first became aware of her parched throat, and then of the roar of an engine that vibrated in her aching skull. Wind and a fine mist whipped her face. She forced her eyes open. The sun was a distorted disk directly above. She licked the moisture on her cracked lips. It was salty. She was flat on her back in a boat. Her body bounced on the hard deck as the vessel chopped its way across the water. Reality hit her all at once.
She blinked until the objects around her came into focus. There were two men, Victor and Eduardo, their backs turned to her. Eduardo was steering the boat, and Victor stood next to him, an AK47 slung over his shoulder. Quickly, she took stock. They hadn’t tied her up. There were two oxygen tanks secured to a metal frame with Velcro straps.
Victor turned. He had blue rings under puffy eyes, and his nose was swollen. His lips curved into a cruel smile. “Well, well, look who’s awake.”
Eduardo shot a quick look over his shoulder. “We’re almost there.”
Maya pushed up onto her elbows and tried not to wince. No need to show them it hurt, even though she felt like a bruised peach. “Where are we?”
“Benguerra,” Victor said with a grin.
She hoped he was shitting her, but from his level stare she could see he was dead serious. That could only mean they were on their way to Ilano’s island. How long had she been out? Did they give her a damn horse tranquilizer?
“How did I get here?”
Victor gave her an ugly sneer, enjoying her reaction. “Private jet.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Eduardo shouted.
Victor pulled his shoulders up to his ears. “What? In five minutes, she’ll know where we are anyway.”
“We ain’t supposed to say shit.”
She could escape by jumping overboard, but not before Victor had time to put a bullet in her. She’d have to take him out first.
“What do you want to do with her then?” Victor asked.
“Not me. Ilano. He’s waiting for nightfall to interrogate her.”
“That’ll be entertaining.” Victor smirked and grabbed his crotch. “After watching, we’ll have our own fun.”
While the pig was groping himself, Maya reacted. By the time Victor turned back to her, she was already on her feet, one of the scuba tanks lifted above her head. She swung it down with all her force, the fifty-liter tank hitting his skull with a clank. The bone popped like a nut and cracked down the seam. For a second, Victor was motionless, standing, mouth agape, with his head split in two and blood pouring over his bulging eyes. He was dead on impact. His body tipped sideways, falling over her feet. She dropped the tank and kicked the body over to reach for his gun, but Eduardo was faster. He’d cut the engine and pointed a Glock 17 between her eyes.
“On your knees,” he said.
When she didn’t react, he kicked her in the stomach. The pain made her double over, gasping for breath. Grabbing her hair, he dragged her to her knees and pushed her face-down with his boot on her back. She fought, wriggling like a snake, until she felt the barrel of his semi-automatic pistol being pushed against her head.
“Keep still, bitch.”
She stopped struggling. Eduardo grabbed her wrists and forced them behind her back. Something hard wrapped around her flesh. It made a zipping sound as it tightened, cutting into her skin. A zip tie, she guessed. He tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked her to her knees again. Then he pulled the AK-47 from Victor’s arm and slung it over his shoulder.
“Try anything and you’re dead, you fucking bitch,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’ll pay for this.”
He restarted the engine and steered the boat east. In the distance, an island became visible. They were approaching a reef, because waves curled, lifted high, and broke before rolling straight at them. In another five seconds, they’d hit the break. Eduardo would have to steer the boat head-on into the waves to avoid capsizing. Going overboard was the least of her worries. Once they reached the island, her torture was a foregone conclusion.
She studied the surf. They were going to hit the first wave in three seconds. From the way Eduardo handled the boat, they should make it safely over the three-foot wave before it broke. After that, it was all a matter of reading the water, the way it ebbed and flowed, and the time in between waves.
