Pirate

Actually, his initial plan might still work. The vehicle looked like a base model, one he hoped didn’t come with what was often an added feature to the standard motion alarm — a glass-breakage alarm. He dug out his little knife and gave it to Remi and she put it in her pocket. “You cover me while I break the window. If the alarm doesn’t go off, wait until I’m at the back of the SUV before you unlock it. If it does go off, they’re going to run right toward us. You may only have seconds to cut her ties and get out of here while I rip off a few shots to slow them down.”

She moved by the front fender, aiming his gun toward the warehouse door.

Sam stood in front of the driver’s window, hefting the tire iron. Vehicle safety glass was designed to shatter yet hold together under impact — which meant he had to hit it in the right spot to get it to break. He’d have one chance. The alarm would definitely be set off by movement. He pulled back, then rammed the tip of the iron into the lower right corner. It shattered, diamond-like bits raining down onto the driver’s seat.

Silence. So far, so good. He set down the tire iron, took the gun from Remi, and hurried to the back of the SUV. When he was in position, his aim on the door, he nodded at her.

She reached in, popped the locks. The moment she opened the back door, a deafening wail filled the air. From the corner of his eye, he saw Remi ducking down, trying to cut Bree’s ties.

Sam braced himself. The warehouse door swung open. A figure burst out, his gun aimed at the SUV and Remi.

“Hey!” Sam cried. His .357 revolver barked. The shot struck the man in the face and he went down. Something flew from his hand. The car keys.

Sam dove, scooped them up, then stood, shouting, “Remi. Keys!”

He flung them over the top of the car.

She caught them, then pushed the back door shut, opened the driver’s door, and slid in. The engine revved to life. Sam jumped into the passenger seat. He slammed his door shut just as the other two men raced out of the building, firing at the SUV.

Remi hit the gas. The tires screeched as she backed perilously close to the edge of the dock.

“Remi!” he snapped, bracing himself.

“I see it.” She turned the wheel, braking hard as she threw it into drive.

Sam looked back. The second man was aiming at them. Sam shot first and saw the third man fall and clutch his left knee.

Remi jabbed the gas pedal to a stop. The sharp report of bullets hitting metal pierced their eardrums. “Come on,” she said as though urging the SUV to move faster.

The tailgate window shattered. “Stay down.” He fired through the broken rear window. The two men dove for cover.

Remi slid as low as she could, not slowing until she reached the end of the street. She turned the corner, racing down the same road they’d arrived on, the first, fat drops of rain splatting against the windshield.

In the distance, they saw the flashing lights of the deputy’s patrol car, then heard the faint sound of the siren as he sped toward them.

Remi pulled over, and they got out of the SUV, waving at the deputy.

He stopped beside them, cutting his siren.

“We found our friend,” Remi said, then opened the passenger door.

The deputy looked in, saw Bree still tied up, his mouth dropping open slightly. Then, recovering, asked, “Anyone hurt?”

Remi removed the gag from Bree’s mouth. “How are you?” she asked.

“Fi—” Bree stopped, took a deep breath. “Fine. My cousin? Where is she? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

Remi used Sam’s pocketknife to cut her ties as the deputy drew Sam to the back of the car out of the roadway. “What’s going on?”

He gave a brief explanation, showing him the video on Remi’s phone, shielding the screen from the scattered rain.

“Where did this happen?”

Sam pointed north. “About five miles up. Some old warehouses on that first street near the docks. Second warehouse in.”

The deputy glanced at the bullet holes along the right rear fender of the SUV and the missing rear window, then keyed his radio, reporting shots fired at one of the abandoned warehouses outside Beaufort. “Three suspects. Description: white male adults, dark clothing.”

The dispatcher copied.

The deputy started for his car, but Bree called out, “What about my cousin?”

“What about her?” he asked.

“Did you talk to her?”

“At the house?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. No one answered the door. It was locked.”

Bree turned toward Remi, her face pale. “We have to go there and check! What if something’s happened to her?”

Nine

Bree grasped Remi’s arm. “Please. Larayne might be in trouble.”

“She’s right,” Sam said. “We have to check on her.”

“Sir,” Deputy Wagner said to Sam. “I’m going to have to trust you know what you’re doing. I have no idea what sort of backup Beaufort’s sending, and I’ve just sent the only other deputy within driving distance to deal with three armed men. I’m not about to leave him without backup.”

“We understand.”