"All right," Luke finally said in defeat. He glanced at Micki, then down at the deck. "All right."
"Wise choice. Now on your feet."
Luke obeyed, and Micki took a long faltering breath as Reynolds pulled the Beretta out of her throat. He released her braid, and then used the same hand to stroke it as he glanced at his men disembarking from the other boats. Several of them headed to where four vehicles were nestled from sight by a line of tall trees. There were three trucks with trailers and another nondescript brown Chevy van that lacked side windows.
"You know, I can be a nice guy, Micki," Reynolds whispered in her ear. "Real nice. Once you get to know me."
Repulsed by the innuendo, she turned her head in disgust.
Grinning at Ponytail, Reynolds pushed Micki away and said, "Get the van, Carl."
"Right." The black man moved off the dock and into the activity of the other men preparing to haul the speedboats onto the trailers.
Micki watched a young guy take her camel-colored backpack from another boat. Slinging one strap over his shoulder, he approached. She wasn't sure of his intentions until Reynolds hoisted Luke's camera bag dockside and handed it off. Without a word, the young guy turned and obediently took both bags up to the brown van.
Reynolds drew Micki's attention again, gesturing toward the dock with a flick of his Beretta. "Ladies first."
Getting out of the boat without the use of her arms would have been just as difficult even if she had been totally cooperative. As it was, Micki only managed it because there were two men waiting on the dock to bodily haul her up.
"Where are you taking us?" she asked as Luke joined her.
"To see Bulldog," Luke supplied levelly.
"And who's that?" Micki asked with a sneer. "His mother? Now I get why he's such a son of a bitch."
"Bulldog was right about you, honey," Reynolds said almost conversationally as he climbed out of the boat. "You've got spunk. Bet you've brought a lot of men to their knees in your time."
"My advice to you, mate, is to remember that when you finally take these bloody handcuffs off me."
Reynolds seemed amused by her veiled threat, but had no retort as another man came down the dock toward them. This guy carried two coats and when close enough, tossed one of them to his boss. Shaking out the black leather jacket, Reynolds draped it across Micki's shoulders with exaggerated care. The other man did the same with the coat he had brought for Luke.
It was her jacket, she realized; he must have found it in the swamp. Its purpose was not congenial but rather to conceal that she and Luke were being held against their will, should anyone happen by that very public place.
Taking hold of her arm and sticking the Beretta in the small of her back, Reynolds gestured Luke and his guard ahead of them with a nod. "Move."
Ponytail had left the engine idling and was waiting by the back doors of the brown panel van. He opened them as Micki and Luke approached, reached in for something, and then tossed the item to the man at Luke's side. It turned out to be a wide roll of sticky silver duct tape, and the guy wasted no time peeling a length, tearing it with his teeth, and plastering it across Luke's mouth as a crude gag.
"A word of advice," Reynolds told Luke as he was pushed backwards into the van. As Luke regained his balance, sitting on the tailgate, the guard knelt to secure his ankles with several rounds of the heavy tape. "Don't try anything stupid."
Luke could only glare in mute silence, as his bound feet were hoisted up and thrust into the van after him. It was at that moment when fate intervened.
"Excuse me?"
Reynolds stepped out from behind the van's back door in alarm, and since he was still holding Micki's arm, his movement took her with him. A red Toyota Prius driven by an elderly couple was creeping toward the front of the van. The old man, leaning out the driver's window of a car that sported an out-of-state license tag, was clearly a retired vacationer.
Micki's heart beat faster. The thug under Reynolds' command hadn't yet gagged her with tape, and the idea of calling to this man and his wife for assistance was a tempting proposition.
"Don't," her captor whispered in her ear, as if having read her thoughts. He reminded her of the consequences of disobeying with a little pressure of the Beretta against her back. "You don't want to be responsible for the deaths of Ma and Pa here."
Gritting her teeth, Micki kept silent. She had no doubt that Reynolds would shoot the old couple in cold blood—a man who would kill a dog in such a fashion was capable of anything.
Reynolds' restraining hand moved from her arm, slipping around her waist to find a resting place on her hip. To the advancing retirees, it appeared that Micki and the man whom she vowed to castrate if she ever got her hands free were sharing an intimate cuddle.
Reynolds smiled a friendly greeting. "Good morning."
"Good morning." The Toyota stopped level with the Chevy van's front bumper, the wary driver making no attempt to exit the vehicle amidst so many rough-looking characters. Instead, as the first boat was winched onto a trailer, he continued to converse out his side window, unaware that the still-concealed Ponytail and Tape Man were poised to pounce. "You folks look like locals, wonder if you could help me and the missus?"
"Sure thing, you lost?"
"We were trying to find the country club."
"You took a wrong turn," Micki spoke up suddenly, her hands clenching into fists and straining against the steel cuffs hidden by her leather jacket.
For their own sake, she wanted to get this innocent old couple back on their way before they spotted anything amiss and paid for their curiosity with their lives. The gun barrel was pressed more firmly into the small of her back as a warning to watch what she said.
"Go back out to the highway," she said, forcing a smile. "Turn right down US-1 for a couple of blocks, and then make a left when you come to Sombrero Beach Road."
"Left on Sombrero Beach Road, you say?"
"Yes, you can't miss it. I—" Reynolds nudged her with the gun. Micki only had to look slightly aside to see Luke, cuffed and gagged on the floor of the van and watching her in anxious silence. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I live out that way."
The elderly man said something incomprehensible to his wife before speaking to her and Reynolds again. "Thank you."
"No problem," Reynolds returned, still smiling.
Then it happened; a moment of hesitation on the driver's part. Perhaps it was the number of men in the area, poised as if they were waiting for something to happen, or Micki's forced friendliness, or the tense trickle of sweat that had started to run down her cheek. Whatever it was, it made the old man look directly at her and ask slowly, "Is everything okay, Miss?"
The soft, meaningful click of the gun at Micki's back scared the hell out of her. "Oh yes!" Despite her repulsion to the act, she put her head down on Reynolds' shoulder and nuzzled him affectionately. "Everything's just fine."
The driver looked relieved and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply... we just... thank you for the directions." With that, he put the car into reverse and backed up the way he had come.
Micki didn't breathe again until the red Toyota had disappeared amongst the trees lining the road back up to the highway. Lifting her head, she glanced at Luke, who looked equally relieved that nothing grievous had just happened.
Reynolds still had his paws on her, and as she tried to pull away he snugged her hip back against his own. "How'd you know where we are?"
"Give me a little credit, huh? I live here. I know my way around Marathon, for Pete's sake."
"You handled that very well," he taunted. "Remind me to reward you later."
"Go to hell, you filth. You make me want to throw up."
Reynolds blew her a kiss. "Such a dirty mouth."
A curt nod to the man with the roll of duct tape brought a sticky gag to her mouth and silenced her caustic reply. Then she was roughly pushed back into the van with Luke, and the doors were slammed on the outside world.
***
The van had no side windows. As it sped down US-1, Micki had no clue where it was headed. Likewise, the two windows in the back doors had been painted over to prevent anyone seeing in—or out. Forced into silence, eye contact was all that Micki had to share with the similarly-trussed man who accompanied her on the journey. Despite this meager form of support, she held onto it for all it was worth, because if she didn't, if she let her concentration slip for even a moment, then all she remembered was poor Fizz struggling against an ocean that by now would have most certainly defeated him.
Helpless, she turned away from the thought and the look on Luke's face, and rested her forehead against the rocking metal wall of the unfurnished van. There, in an attempt to keep her mind occupied, she pondered the clues she had learned so far.
'Bulldog' was the codename for the sicko in charge of this shady operation. Luke, who had first casually mentioned the alias at
The Sandpiper
two nights ago, knew of Bulldog's reputation but not the individual's true identity. Although he insisted the finger of guilt pointed squarely at Dirk, part of Micki was still counting on her ex-lover to somehow come to her rescue. Even now. Surely Dirk had raised the alarm, told someone she was missing? Was the Coast Guard out searching for her at that very moment? But the ELT battery would have died hours ago...
She was no closer to any conclusions when the van drove under or into something that sounded like a tunnel.
Tunnel? Since they hadn't been traveling more than five minutes, it meant they were still in the Keys. Driving through 'a tunnel' was impossible, yet the noises around them had undeniably turned into a hollow sort of echo.
The reverberant screech of tires as the van stopped was the final clue—they were definitely inside something. Luke rose to his elbow as Reynolds and Ponytail exited either side of the cab and slammed the doors behind them. Muffled voices floated to her ears, deliberately kept low yet still loud enough to resonate around the—
What? Micki grunted in frustration. Where were they? And what was going on beyond the back doors of the van?
She looked at Luke. The expression on his face said he was just as stumped. Someone swore violently in anger... just seconds before the back doors were pulled open to reveal the figure of a man. He was silhouetted against the glare of a harsh light fixed somewhere behind him and making it impossible to see his face. Micki squinted and tried not to look away. Was this rescue? Or the proverbial 'end of the ride' for her and Luke?
"Shit," the man swore irately, then climbed in the back of the van with them. As the angle of the light changed across his face, his identity became clear... and Micki found she had never been so glad to see him as she was then.
It was Dirk! Dirk had come through!
Completely ignoring Luke, Dirk squatted and helped her to sit upright. "Are you okay?" he asked, gently peeling the silver duct tape from her mouth. His concerned gaze swept over her face. Outraged at what he found, he tenderly touched the red swollen area beside her right eye. "Who hit you? I'll kill the bastard!"
"Doesn't matter, not now," she said desperately. "Oh, Dirk, I knew you'd find me..."
When he reached behind her for the handcuffs, she marveled at how he must have taken out both Reynolds and Ponytail to get the key. Dirk was her knight in shining armor, freeing her from the horror of being so vulnerable and at the mercy of a pair of callous thugs, just like she always believed he would. The first thing she did when her hands were free was reward his gallantry with a grateful hug.
"It's okay," Dirk said in her ear. He planted a quick kiss on the side of her head. "I've got you now."
It was then, over his shoulder amidst all the relief, that Micki caught sight of Luke. Although still bound and gagged on the floor of the van, he should have realized that he was safe now too, and so the worried look in his eyes and the frantic shaking of his head completely confused her. He tried saying something—a single syllable—but it came out as an incomprehensible grunt.
Gently disentangling himself, Dirk pushed her away and swiveled on the balls of his feet to face Luke. Micki sat back, rubbing some circulation into her freed wrists and arms while starting to take an interest in her new surroundings. Through the open van doors she saw they had stopped inside some sort of large building, one with high corrugated tin walls and a concrete floor that would certainly account for the echo.
Like a cresting wave, Micki realized exactly what type of building and where. They were in a hangar at the airport! Considering Dirk's swift rescue, it was most probably the maintenance hangar where he worked. Reynolds and Ponytail had sure picked the wrong place to hide out, and the wrong guy to mess with! She looked again, half-expecting to see Tex and Padre and Tim bringing up the rear.
She was turning back to Dirk with a heartfelt smile when she noted that his warm concern, upon falling on her still-bound companion, had transformed into cold contempt. Before she could speak, Dirk reached out to rip the adhesive gag from Luke's unshaven face in a way that made her flinch.
Luke gritted his teeth, then looked at Micki and voiced a single word that was totally out of context with the accepted rules of rescue. "RUN!"