Hidden Agenda (4 page)

Whatever their
plan
was, it was never going to work.

“There are two guards at the front gate.” She was talking again, with that sweeter-than-honey voice of hers. “Ivan knows a shortcut to the dock that bypasses the gate. The main thing is that we have to get there before the other perimeter guard makes his rounds.”

Michael nodded. After visiting the property a half-dozen times over the past eight months, he'd studied the guard's routines. Found alternative routes off the island if necessary. Being rescued by a couple of strangers had never been the plan, but from the looks of things, he didn't have a choice.

“How do you know so much about this property?” he asked.

His guardian angel hesitated. “You're just going to have to trust us. The good thing is that they're worried about people coming into the compound uninvited. Not getting out.”

“And the dogs?” He liked dogs, but these German shepherds helping to guard the property weren't here to play catch.

“My brother's always been able to make friends with just about every animal he runs into, including Goliath and Caesar. They won't be a problem.”

Michael bit back a wave of nausea stemming from the pain. “What happens if we get caught?”

“We'll deal with that when the time comes.”

She clearly didn't know who she was dealing with. “You know what they'll do to you . . . if we're caught.”

She jutted her chin toward Kendall's lifeless body. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

He turned toward the door. “You never told me your names.”

“I'm Olivia, and this is my brother, Ivan. He's deaf, but he can read lips and speak.”

Ivan nodded. “We're going to get you out of here.”

He caught the intensity in the boy's voice, surprised at how well he spoke.

“And you?” she asked. “What's your name?”

“Liam . . . Liam Quinn.”

He paused at the fake name he'd just thrown at her, but she didn't need to know who he really was. They'd help get him off the island, then the wisest thing for them would be to put as much distance between him and themselves as they could.

“We can chitchat later,” she said, “but for now we have a short window to get you from here to the pontoon before the guards show up.”

Michael took a painful step, wondering how it was he'd never met someone so familiar with the property. But she was right. He'd ask those questions later. For the moment, it took all the energy he could gather just to put one foot in front of the other.

Biting back the pain, he gritted his teeth as they wrapped their arms around his waist and started toward the door. Kendall's lifeless eyes stared up at him. The nausea returned. No man deserved to die without a proper burial, but there wasn't anything he could do at the moment. All he could hope for was that the authorities would find the body before Valez fed it to the sharks. That was the least his wife and two children deserved.

“Wait a minute.” Michael reached down and quickly ran through Kendall's pockets. Nothing. Tomas was telling the truth. They knew now who he was. They knew he'd betrayed them all.

Olivia looked up at him as they crossed the threshold of the cottage. “Do you pray?”

Michael nodded as dread began to envelop him.

“Good.” She tightened her grip on his waist. “We're gonna need it.”

O
livia felt Liam's fingers grip her shoulder. She could tell by the heaviness of his breathing and the unevenness of his gait that he was in a great deal of pain. He needed medical care to determine if there was any internal damage, but they'd have to deal with that problem after they made it to the mainland. For now, her only concern was ensuring they didn't get caught. Because if they were discovered, the man lying dead on the cottage floor wouldn't be the only one with a bullet in his head. She had no doubts now that her father's henchmen would kill all of them without thinking twice.

They moved slowly toward the dock, beneath the canopy of oak trees with their woody vines, while accusations from the email messages ran through her head. Her father was involved in money laundering and the cartel. This man—along with the one inside the cottage—was proof of everything she'd feared.

Olivia heard a twig snap behind them and paused midstep. She turned around as Goliath ran up and pressed against her leg. She let out an audible sigh of relief at the sight of the dog. Ivan reached down to pet Goliath with his free hand.

Liam's voice was raspy. “How much farther?”

She caught the fatigue in his voice and realized he wasn't
going to be able to go on much longer. “Not far, but we need to keep moving.”

“And the guards?”

“One should pass by here in the next few minutes.”

Which meant they were running out of time.

Goliath padded beside them, making too much noise. Olivia glanced back toward the house as they continued, searching for any signs of movement in the trees, while Ivan led them along the shortcut that bypassed the front gate and led them outside the property, leaving the dog behind.

Olivia tried to ignore the fear gnawing at her stomach. Wondering how long it would take them to get to the dock. Wondering what would happen if they needed to shift to plan B—when she had no idea what plan B was. She glanced at Liam. His lips were pressed tightly together. Her father didn't have to know she and Ivan had orchestrated his escape. Once on the mainland, she would simply call the police anonymously, then leave her father to deal with how his prisoner had escaped.

She repositioned her arm around his waist. “The dock's just ahead. How are you holding up?”

“I don't know, I . . .” He stumbled. “My head . . . it's spinning.”

Olivia tightened her grip. The muscles in her back and arms were beginning to burn. She could see the outline of the dock and the water in the distance. The pontoon bobbed in the water along the shoreline. Fifty more yards. Thirty. Fifteen.

Liam stumbled again. Olivia strained beneath the extra weight, somehow managing to lean into him and help Ivan support him. But they were running out of time, and she was running out of strength.

You
can do this, Olivia. One step at a time.

She glanced back one last time to see if anyone had followed them, but all she could see were the now distant lights of the house. In front of them, waves gently lapped against the shore.
Another few feet and they would be in the boat, heading for the mainland . . . and safety.

A minute later, she and Ivan dragged Liam into the bottom of the boat before he passed out. Ivan started the engine, leaving off all but one front light so they wouldn't be as visible from behind, then steered the boat away from the dock. The hazy yellow lights of the house began to fade in the distance, making her suddenly wonder if she'd ever return. Wondering if she'd ever see her father again. She'd spent a dozen summers here. How could she have been so wrong about someone she'd loved so much?

Shadows moving along the shoreline caught her attention, deepening the fear welling up inside her. She grasped the side of the boat as Ivan steered them into deeper waters. No. The guards hadn't had time to discover that their prisoner was gone. Not yet. There was no reason why José wouldn't have bought her story about going to the mainland for pizza. Everything she'd said was true. No one would think twice about their leaving . . .

But the unmistakable sound of another motor changed her mind. A second boat was leaving the dock. Her gaze shifted to where Ivan sat at the steering wheel. Water slapped against the sides of the boat. She tried believing all the legitimate reasons someone else might be out on the water, but her gut told her that this was no coincidence.

And while Ivan truly was a natural in the water, maneuvering during the day was one thing. Navigating at night—without getting lost or running into an underwater obstacle—brought a whole other set of complications. Let alone being chased by a bunch of drug runners.

Olivia moved to the front of the boat beside her brother and pressed her palm against his arm before signing. “They're behind us.”

Ivan looked back toward the horizon, then pushed on the accelerator, shifting gears as the boat rocketed forward. Seawater splayed against their faces, leaving behind the familiar taste of salt water on her tongue. He motioned for her to get down on the deck.

She heard the first shot ping against the boat.

Adrenaline rammed through her as she stumbled across the rocking deck toward Liam. He groaned as the boat tipped to the left, rolling him onto his back. She grasped his shoulders, holding him steady, as they flew across the water.

The moon cast just enough light for her to see the outline of his face and the shadow of a beard. Cuts and bruises marred his cheek and jawline. She couldn't help but wonder who he really was. What he had done to cross her father. And if she'd done the right thing in saving his life. Because now she knew the kind of men who worked for her father. The kind who didn't hesitate with an order to assassinate.

A second shot ricocheted off the side of the boat. Olivia looked back and saw the light of the other boat running behind them. The anger that had begun seeping into her soul when she'd read those emails continued to spread. She'd spent her life taking care of her brother, and now, because of her father's betrayal, she'd managed to put Ivan's life at risk for the sake of someone they didn't even know.

What if doing what was right turned out not to be worth the cost?

Olivia stared at the wake of water behind them. As soon as they got to the mainland, she would demand answers from Liam to the growing number of questions spinning through her mind. Ivan might have had a compelling case when he'd first come to her, but the men shooting at them erased it completely. They should have left Liam Quinn where they found him. Should have gone into town and alerted the authorities and let them come
in and clean up the mess. Trying to handle things themselves had been foolish. This wasn't just about a man slated to be executed. If everything she now believed to be true really was true, their actions tonight might have very well signed their own death warrants. It wouldn't make one whit of difference that they were Antonio Valez's children.

Water sprayed across the deck as Ivan pushed on the accelerator and increased their speed, but she could still hear the rumble of a second motor behind them. Whoever it was, they were gaining on them. Their own boat swerved to the right. Olivia braced herself and Liam against the movement, as Ivan took them into one of the narrow waterways where seawater mixed with freshwater from the coastal rivers and runoff.

The sound of the other boat faded as they meandered through the maze of the salt marshes. A minute later, Ivan shut off the engine, leaving them to bob beside the sea grass in the eerie darkness of night. All was quiet for a moment as Ivan crouched down beside them.

Olivia held her breath as the sound of the other boat's engine buzzed in the distance, mingling with the nocturnal sounds of the marshland. She forced herself not to move, using only her sense of hearing to tell her that her father's men had slowed down to search for them.

She turned to Ivan, uncertain. If they waited too long to continue to the mainland, their pursuers would more than likely be waiting for them.

Michael opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. Stars hung above him, and the ground beneath him rocked. A car? No . . . a boat? He turned his head and found her beside him, close enough that he could feel the pounding of her heart. His guardian angel. He could smell the faint scent of vanilla
in her hair mingling with the distinctive tang of salt water. But she'd been nothing more than a dream. Or so he thought.

He searched his memory for clues. The last thing he remembered was being in the cottage. They'd killed Kendall. Promised to kill him as well. Then she'd appeared—his angel—with a crazy idea to rescue him.

Pushing an elbow against the hard flooring, he tried to sit up, but the pain radiated through his rib cage. He might have gotten away with minimal damage, but that didn't mean that the injuries they had inflicted didn't hurt like the dickens.

The young woman gripped his arm and motioned for him to be still.

He nodded, catching her features in the moonlight. Water droplets peppered his face. The steady hum of a boat's engine droned somewhere in the distance. His mind fought to focus on what she was saying, but instead, blackness tried to envelop him.

He closed his eyes. Memories of the last time he'd talked to Kendall replayed in his mind. It had been pouring rain when he arrived at the café. He'd stepped inside, immediately taking in all the details. A waitress with choppy highlights and a checkered blue uniform poured coffee for an older woman at the counter. A thirtysomething-year-old man wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt sat reading a newspaper and sipping a cappuccino. A couple of college-age girls texted instead of chatted, waiting—like the rest of them, presumably—for the downpour to stop.

He'd studied the rest of the customers while slipping his umbrella into the stand by the front door, still unable to shake the unease that had taken hold of him. He'd always loved this time of year, but hearing Dean Martin's “I'll Be Home for Christmas” play in the background, and knowing his family was less than a dozen miles away and he still couldn't see them, didn't exactly make this a Christmas worth remembering.

He missed his family. Missed his mother's roast turkey, cornbread dressing, and divinity she served every Christmas. Missed the ornately dressed twelve-foot tree topped with his grandmother's glass star. Shoot, he even missed the hideous red and green Hunt family sweater traditionally passed from one lucky person to the next each year.

He shoved back the memories. Except for a perky blonde flashing him an inviting smile from one of the tables, the rest of the customers were either too engrossed in their food or in each other to notice him.

Ignoring the blonde's gaze, he headed for the leather booth at the back of the room and slid in across from Kendall, wishing he were the one facing the front door. He'd walked around the Atlanta neighborhood for ten minutes, in and out of busy shops, until he was convinced he hadn't been followed. But even though no one had managed to arouse his suspicions, his gut told him they were taking a big risk meeting in public.

“Would you prefer I did a background check on all the occupants in this room?” Kendall glanced up at Michael through a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and grasped his coffee mug.

Michael forced a weak smile. “Might not be a bad idea.”

At least the man had attempted to shed the recognizable FBI garb for something a bit more casual, though the plaid flannel shirt wouldn't have been Michael's first pick.

Kendall signaled the waitress. “I told her to bring you a cup of coffee when you got here, but if you're hungry—”

Michael waved away the offer. “Coffee's fine.”

“Were you followed?”

“No.” Michael grabbed the plastic menu lying in front of him and tapped it against the table. “But I'm still not sure that meeting in person is wise.”

“You worry too much. What do you have for me?”

Michael slid the flash drive across the table.

“What's on it?”