The Witness (Miami Private Security #4)

23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Michael

I hated the plan more than ever now that I was living it.

I settled deeper into the curved cream leather sectional on board the Jabberwocky. Sabrina huddled at my feet, her eyes closed and hair unbrushed. She was doing an excellent imitation of a woman drugged up on ketamine. We’d decided it was the most practical lie to tell Sandoval’s men. It let her act as a biddable prisoner without raising suspicion. And anything that kept her from getting punched, slapped, restrained, or otherwise injured worked for me.

There were about a dozen men on Sandoval’s boat, armed with everything from knives to guns. And the marina office where the PNR officers waited was too far away for my liking.

I’d have taken a kick in the balls from Derek Sawyer to have him and the rest of the Smith Agency team here to watch Sabrina’s back. I told Gunter I had no faith in this plan or the PNR. But here I was, about to try to get Sabrina killed.

Sandoval paced before us, explaining how his affiliation of criminals worked. It sounded like a complicated pyramid scheme of respect and fear kept the organization in power.

“I think allying with a motorcycle club offers interesting opportunities. Transportation. Maneuverability. And the intimidation factor. Yes, I’m warming to the idea, Mr. Dumas.” Sandoval poured us each a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice from a crystal pitcher on the nearby table.

“My club will be happy to hear that.” I took the glass and set it on the coffee table. The overpowering sweetness of the juice paired unpleasantly with the tension roiling my gut.

On board his boat, Sandoval had relaxed and talked more freely than he had at the party last night. Hopefully, the Cubans were recording this because some details he was spouting off would be helpful when law enforcement finally stepped up and dismantled his organization.

The listening devices the Cubans had lent us were world class. Mine was embedded in my belt buckle and Sabrina’s in a small charm on a cheap-looking necklace she wore. It was some of the best tech I’d ever seen. Simon would love to have these gadgets in his Smith Agency toy chest.

“Good. We can set up a meeting for you with my lawyer, Preston Maschmeyer, in Miami when you return. He is my point person in town. He will get you started with something small. Maybe gun running?”

I nodded.

“Well then, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in Cuba.” He gestured toward the exit with his mostly empty glass of juice.

“Not quite. There is still the matter of Ms. Dalton.” I poked Sabrina with the toe of my shoe like she was a bag of garbage. It was a move I saw Coyote use on any recruit that passed out drunk or high. Treating her like something disposable made me want to punch someone.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for my gift.” He glanced at Sabrina, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

“I think you misunderstand. She needs to be taken care of.”

“And she shall.”

“When? I need to know my generosity will not come back to bite me in the ass later. She’s American, I’m American. This is an enormous risk.” I stood, taking up as much space as I could. My feet were shoulder width apart, arms crossed so the seams of my shirt threatened to pop.

“After we are done with her. It will be handled.” Sandoval set his juice glass on a table with a loud clink.

“That will not work. I don’t trust anyone. Especially not a new acquaintance. It’s got to be now.” I tipped my head left and right, popping my neck. The hallmark of a man spoiling for a fight.

“We need time to question her. She has information vital to the organization.” Sandoval didn’t back down. His black eyes flashed at my insolence.

“Bullshit. The way I hear it, you know everything she told the FBI. That was why you made such a mess at the Oceanfront Diner going after her. We’re regulars at that place. Your team’s fuck up there is what got the club interested in your organization.”

The tension in the room was palpable as he and I engaged in a fierce staring contest. He blinked first.

“I need to know what she’s told the private security company.” His patience was wearing thin.

“Don’t recommend you tangle with that crew. More trouble than it’s worth. Word is the owner is a spook. Ties with the feds in DC or some shit.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Sandoval shrugged, unimpressed by my warning. “You have my word. No one will ever see the woman again.” He broke eye contact to wave a dismissive hand at Sabrina.

“Sorry. Not good enough.” I made a move to pull Sabrina from the floor. “I’m taking her with me.”

Sandoval sighed. His annoyance at being challenged was palpable.

“The Count of Monte Cristo said wait and hope. I’m fine with waiting, even good at it. What I lack that the Count had is faith. Especially faith in other men. I believe in verification. Seeing with my own eyes. You know?” I bent and pulled Sabrina roughly to her feet. Better me manhandling her than one of Sandoval’s thugs.

Her gasp of surprise pierced my chest and made me want to get her the hell off this boat as soon as possible. Fuck arresting Sandoval. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and glistened on her eyelashes. Somewhere in the last twenty minutes, Sabrina had realized how dangerous a game she was playing, acting as bait.

I started toward the door, dragging her along, only stopping when Sandoval cursed under his breath.

“Fine, Mr. Dumas, have it your way… this time. I can see you will be an interesting associate and a cautious one.” He waved toward the stern. “This will inevitably get messy. Let’s adjourn to the fishing deck.”

I motioned for him to lead the way out of the salon and into the open air. Bright tropical sun beat down from a cloudless sky. A cool winter breeze off the ocean made the day postcard picture perfect. Hot in the sun, cool in the shade. Two of Sandoval’s men fell into step behind me and Sabrina. I squeezed her hand a few times, hoping to reassure her. She was trembling so hard I didn’t think she registered it. She was locked inside her fear, and I was the bastard keeping up the ruse.

The Jabberwocky was moored at the end of a long wooden dock. It was the last boat in the last slip of the hotel’s large marina. The location afforded privacy and quick access to the main harbor. It was a shit place for a police operation, but great for Sandoval conducting business. Everything was stacked in the crime lord’s favor.

I silently thanked Agent Acosta for pulling a few strings to get use of a military surveillance drone. It was the only way to get eyes on the back deck. Gunter promised he’d make sure the Cubans didn’t delay one second longer than necessary when it was time. It was his promise that kept me playing the role. Sabrina had already slipped into a place where her terror was real, doubt eating away the bravery she’d shown until now. I sure as shit didn’t blame her, because I was close to joining her.

I was about to ask a man with no morals to slit her throat. Fuck!

Parts of me I barely knew existed anymore after my sister’s death were alive and screaming. Telling me to end this. Run. Jump off the damn boat and swim for it. Grab Sabrina and toss her over the eight-foot gap to the dock. Anything to stop this from playing out exactly as we’d planned. I gritted my jaw until my teeth ached.

My rough, uncaring hold on Sabrina kept her from falling when she stumbled down the small flight of stairs that led onto the lowest deck of the mega yacht. I longed to pull her close and hug her but only dared a whispered word of encouragement as I shoved her back on her feet.

“Be brave.” The sea breeze snatched the words from my mouth. I had no clue if she’d heard.

On the back deck, a large fighting chair took center stage, a rod and reel stood ready for the next deep sea fishing trip. My gaze lingered on the well-used gaff hanging off a gunnel. Its evil hook glistened menacingly in the mid-morning sun. Flecks of gore were embedded in the wood handle. It was too easy to imagine Sabrina’s blood splashed on the teak deck and then scrubbed away like fish guts.

Every ounce of common sense I possessed told me our plan would backfire, and she would suffer the consequences. But thankfully, there was nothing common about me or her. I dug deep for my last reserve of calm; I had to close this deal. Then get the hell off this boat and out of this godforsaken country with my woman.

Four of Sandoval’s goons had followed us. Including the mouth breather American ex-con from last night. They arranged their backs to the harbor, further hiding me, Sandoval, and Sabrina from view of anyone on the docks or in the distant hotel. But their bulk didn’t hide shit from our eyes in the sky. Thank you, Acosta .

“Janson, you can handle this.” Sandoval waved the ex-con forward.

I shook my head. “Nah, the MC doesn’t get into a deal with a figurehead. We like men to prove they are men. Get their hands dirty.”

I pulled a big ass tactical knife from the sheath on my belt. I flipped it over and presented it to Sandoval hilt first. A sneer on my face that challenged his manhood. His choice was to prove he had balls or let me assume they were missing.

I willed him to take the knife. The moment he accepted the weapon, I’d signal the PNR and get Sabrina to safety.

I held Sabrina by her bound wrists with my left hand. As soon as I’d pulled the knife, she’d panicked, whimpering and trying to twist from my grasp. I couldn’t afford to let her slip free. One of Sandoval’s goons wouldn’t hesitate to punch her, or worse. I clenched down and mentally apologized for the bruises I was inflicting.

“Maybe we should cruise out to sea before—” Sandoval glanced around, looking for an excuse.

“Negative. People that go on pleasure cruises with you have a nasty habit of having to swim home.” I wagged the knife at him. Tempting, taunting.

Sandoval squared his shoulders and eyed the knife warily for a heartbeat before a huge, wide smile transformed his face into a sick parody of happiness that made me think of the Joker in the Batman movies.

The fucker loved this. Every sick, twisted moment. Gunter had called him a psychopath. He’d been right.

My fear for Sabrina rose to a new and terrifying level. In my head I was chanting take the knife at the same time I was looking for the best avenue of escape for us. My last resort, we’d go overboard.

Sandoval took the knife.

“I didn’t think you would be the type to pussy out.” It was the code phrase that would get the Cubans moving if Gunter hadn’t already goaded them into action. “My crew likes that. Wait until you meet Coyote. He’ll want to know all about today.”

“Motorcycle clubs are a bit like a cult, aren’t they? Have you killed for your president before?” Sandoval wasn’t looking at me or Sabrina. He stared at the knife, testing the edge against the pad of his thumb.

“I’ve proven myself to my brothers.”

“Your expensive suit is like my yacht. Window dressing. We’re both savages, aren’t we?” He tilted his gaze up to meet mine.

I’d thought his eyes reminded me of John Smith. I’d been wrong. They were soulless, inhuman. The same gleaming black eyeballs as a great white shark in a frenzy, wholly focused on one thing: prey.

“I don’t think we're the only dangerous men that enjoy camouflage.”

“Fair enough. Give her to me.” Sandoval stood, legs braced apart and one hand beckoning like he was inviting a knife fight not about to slaughter a defenseless woman. His gaze feasted on Sabrina.

I’d delayed as long as possible. No fucking way I handed her over. Sandoval might get one good stab in my back or shoulder, but before he struck again, we’d be over the side and swimming to safety.

“No.” Sabrina screamed and flopped to the deck, limp as a wet rag. She flailed her arms and legs in a windmill of chaos and confusion. It was such a wild change from the docile captive a moment before we were all shocked into stillness. I was the first to recover. I nabbed her elbow and pulled her toward the rail, sliding her across the polished deck.

I had one hand on the rail, ready to pull us over the side, when loud voices yelling in Spanish and pounding boots echoed from the bow.

Yippee ki yay mother fuckers . The cavalry had arrived. I’d kiss Mora and Acosta if we all got out alive.

Sabrina and I were no longer the most interesting thing on the Jabberwocky. That place of distinction went to the dozen or more men in black fatigues with automatic weapons streaming onto the boat from every direction. They weren’t only coming up the gangplank but had swarmed like rats from the yacht next to this one, jumping over the gap between the two boats. Acosta and Mora had delivered more manpower than I’d expected, and Gunter must have lit a fire under their asses to storm the boat before I uttered the code words.

I pulled Sabrina up and held her to my chest. “Put your hands out in front of you and don’t make any sudden moves. We may get out of this alive.”

“Fuck, we better.” She huddled into my chest. Her bold words made me want to smile. Damn, she was a brave woman.