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I leaned down and picked up the radio, careful not to press any buttons.
We stared at it, but no one spoke. The other outlaws stopped what they were doing and gathered around me with curiosity.
“If no one responds, they might realize something happened to the Enforcers,” I said. “And they’ll send out another boat.”
Vaughn shrugged. “So what? We fight ‘em off again. And now we got this.” He pointed to the black gun.
I shook my head. “And they could have more.”
Dunn held back at the perimeter of the group, but his face revealed his desperation.
“Enforcer Merrick?” The voice spoke again.
I stepped toward Dunn. “Talk to them. Pretend that everything is normal. You’re on your boat. No one ever attacked. I’m your prisoner. Got it?”
“But—” Dunn began.
Cait picked up a pistol and pointed it at him. “Say one wrong word and you’re dead.”
Keane looked wary, but he didn’t stop us.
Dunn finally took the radio, his hand shaking as he stared down the pistol in Cait’s hand. He pressed a button, his voice faltering as he spoke. “Hello . . . Enforcer Cadwaller. This is Enforcer Dunn speaking.”
“Enforcer Dunn?” Cadwaller replied. “I was beginning to think you had changed your channel. May I speak to Merrick?”
“She is . . . occupied at the moment, sir.” His voice caught and he ran a hand through his short brown hair.
“She was supposed to report to us after questioning the prisoners,” said Cadwaller, “but it seems she has forgotten.”
“Oh,” said Dunn. “Indeed.” He swallowed and his forehead shone with sweat.
“Well? Are you prepared to report in her stead?” asked the voice on the other end.
Dunn looked at me as he spoke into the radio. “Yes, sir.”
Cait pulled the radio from his hand. “You’re done.”
Dunn reached for it, but she lifted the pistol until he backed off.
“Cait!” I said. “Let him speak.”
“I don’t want them knowing Graham’s on Tramore,” said Cait. “They almost killed Lachlan! I don’t want Enforcers going back.”
“Enforcer Dunn? Are you there?” asked the voice on the radio.
Dunn looked pained.
“Give it back,” I said to Cait. “But you”—I turned to Dunn—“don’t tell them where Graham Brennin is, just that he’s alive.”
“Fine.” Cait handed the radio back to him. “But be careful,” she warned.
Dunn glanced at her pistol again before taking the radio. “The prisoners claim Sir Brennin is alive.”
The radio crackled before the voice on the other end spoke again. “Where is he?”
“That’s all I know, sir,” said Dunn in a hurry.
“It seems you have been too lenient on them. We gave you orders to root out everything you possibly can. You must employ any means necessary to extract that information.”
