Hard as It Gets (30 page)

Luckily, the park remained empty and the trees provided cover from the neighboring parking lot. Ahead, the white fishing boat rumbled to life. They walked across the wood planking, the boards moving slightly under the weight of the group. Marz helped her step down into the boat, and Shane guided her to the empty seat next to Miguel in the central cockpit. In just a few seconds’ time, the team was all aboard. Easy took a position on the wide rear wall, watching their tail, while the rest of the guys bustled their captive toward the open space at the front and forced him to the floor.

“Ropes are clear,” Shane said.

Miguel pushed a lever forward, easing them away from the dock. Their speed felt excruciatingly slow, but then they passed a buoy with a No Wake sign and she understood why. “Harbor police ahead, gentlemen, just play it cool,” Miguel said.

Sitting on the V-shaped benches built into the boat’s bow, Shane, Marz, and Beckett reclined against the walls like they hadn’t a care in the world.

Miguel pasted on a smile. “Smile and wave, boys and girls.”

The police boat wasn’t particularly close, but its captain waved. They waved back. Becca blew out a breath, adrenaline from the scuffle at the pavilion making her shaky now.

“You okay, kid?” Miguel asked.

She nodded and pulled loose strands of her hair from her face. Thought about how good an icy bottle of water would feel on her raw throat. Nick’s team was being so quiet that she felt she should be, too. In fact, tension radiated off the men. Easy had his gaze peeled off the stern of the boat. The guys seated up front appeared braced for a fight, muscles rigid, eyes on a constant scan. Nick was on top of the guy on the floor, gun still jammed in the man’s back.

Thankfully, Canton was close to the mouth of the harbor. They passed Fort McHenry on the right, the historic site that inspired Francis Scott Key to write the Star-Spangled Banner, and then they were out into more open water. Miguel picked up speed. It was a beautiful day, no waves or wind, and the fishing boat glided gently through the dark green-blue water as they passed Baltimore’s industrial areas and boatyards, then went under the last bridges that officially marked their entry into the Chesapeake Bay.

“Open water, gentlemen,” Miguel called over the twin engines. “Coming right up.” He pushed the lever forward again, and the boat shot out over the calm bay.

Becca wrapped her arms around herself and hugged tight. It wasn’t cold, but her bones rattled in her skin, her throat ached, and her head throbbed. Now that they had the guy, how were they going to get him to tell them what they needed to know?

Chapter 21

R
age and a healthy dose of deadly intent flowed through Rixey’s veins. What he’d most feared had very nearly come to pass—Becca being hurt, kidnapped, or worse. This motherfucker had manhandled her. Twice. At this point, he’d happily bathe in the guy’s blood and dance on his bones.

“Check him for ID,” Nick said, still using his weight to make sure the asshole didn’t try to get cute.

Shane and Marz went through his pockets. “Bingo,” Marz said, lifting the guy’s cell phone and a black leather wallet. He flipped the billfold open. “Hello, Mr. Tyrell Woodson. I’ll just hang onto these.” Marz slipped both into his pocket.

From his position on the deck, Nick didn’t have a good visual of their location. He glanced up to Shane, who gave a tight nod, confirming they were out in open water.

“Start. Talking,” Nick growled, giving an extra shove of his gun into Tyrell’s kidney.

“Fuck you,” the punk said.

Rixey heaved the guy’s upper body off the floor and slammed it back against the fiberglass. “Wrong answer,” he said as groans spilled out from under the hood. “We know you work for Church. Tell us why Church is after the Merritts and where Charlie Merritt is being held.”

“I’m not telling you shit.” He struggled under Nick’s grip.

“Since you’re going after his sister, I’m guessing Charlie said something similar, huh? What did you do to try to convince him, I wonder.” He glanced to the team surrounding him. “Masks. I want Tyrell to see what I’m about to do.” Bracing his feet against the boat’s motion over the waves, he grabbed his full tactical face mask from his jacket pocket and slipped the thin black fabric over his head again. The other men did the same, leaving only their eyes uncovered. “Grab his arms and legs.” Rixey pulled the blade free from his ankle holster and cut the plastic band binding the man’s wrists.

Asshole struggled momentarily, but Shane, Marz, and Beckett made quick work of restraining him and flipped him to his back.

Kneeling, Rixey spared a glance to the cockpit. Becca had moved to the gangway next to the cockpit, in full view of their interrogation. He really wished she wasn’t watching this, but she deserved to know everything they learned.

Marz tapped on Nick’s shoulder and held up his iPhone. “Video,” he mouthed.

Nick nodded, waited for him to indicate he was ready, and ripped the hood off their captive. Bruises and cuts covered his dark skin, like somebody had beat the shit out of him. Rixey was momentarily jealous that someone had gotten to this piece of shit first. Breathing so hard his lips puffed out on each harsh exhale, the banger’s bulging eyes skittered here and there and squinted as he attempted to focus on Rixey kneeling above him.

“I open my mouth, I’m as good as dead,” he squeaked, sounding more like a piss-scared teenager than a bad-ass banger.

“You’re already as good as dead.” Beckett’s voice was icy cold as he restrained an arm.

“As soon as your friends back at the park tell anyone you were taken, they’ll know you’re damaged goods.” Nick grabbed his jaw and turned it this way and that. “Judging by your face, I’d say someone’s already not too happy with you.” The guy sputtered, but Nick didn’t have the patience for bullshit. Not now. Holding the blade up, he studied it for a long moment. “What were we talking about before? Oh, right. What you did to try to make Charlie talk. Anybody here remember what they did to him?”

“No. No, man. That wasn’t me,” he spluttered. Shit. A dark stain spread on his pants. The acrid scent of urine whirled through the sea air.

“Well, what part have you played in this?” Nick flashed the blade. “Attempted kidnapping. Twice. We know that much.”

“I . . . I . . .”

“He needs some encouragement,” Beck said.

Rixey nodded. “He does, doesn’t he? Slide his hand over here.”

“What?” Tyrell screeched. “Okay, okay, I was in her house.”

“What were you looking for?” Nick asked, whipping the blade against Tyrell’s throat and wanting to spit in his face. Put a gun in the hand of a guy like this, he was tough shit. Strip him of it, and he was a big fucking sissy.

“I don’t know. I was just told to toss the place. Me and one other guy. We was just there to do the damage.”

“But there was someone else looking for something.”

“Above my pay grade, man. I swear.”

Fine. Probably true. Nick changed tactics. Just for the fun of seeing fear cloud Tyrell’s eyes like it had Becca’s. Nick moved the knife. This time, down to dig right into his navel. “Where’s Charlie?”

Tyrell shook his head against the deck. “I’m not sure.”

Nick dragged the guy’s beefy hand in front of him, held his wrist tight against the deck, and wedged the edge of the blade under his pinkie nail. “Where’s Charlie?” he said again, voice deadly even.

Tyrell grimaced. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Not good enough.” Nick exerted enough pressure to inch the blade under the nail. Tyrell gritted his teeth and tried to hold in his reaction, but the nail was beginning to separate from the skin. Blood slowly pooled.

“He was at a storage facility,” he nearly screamed.

Now we’re getting somewhere.
Jackwad had no way of knowing they’d already found the facility he referred to. Nick withdrew the knife. Jesus, didn’t take much to make him squeal, did it? “Explain. Do it right the first time or I’ll rip the nail right off. And I won’t stop there.”

“They were holding him at a storage facility. But I heard they were gonna move him. Okay?” he blurted out.

“Move him where? And when?”

Tyrell whimpered.

“Screw the nails. I’m going for the whole finger. That’s what you did to Charlie, right?” Nick pushed his weight down on the back of Tyrell’s hand and pressed the blade into the little space where the finger met the knuckle joint.

Tears leaked from the asshole’s eyes. Seriously? This was the kind of douchebag terrorizing Baltimore’s streets. Just a big fucking bully.

“I heard . . . I heard . . .” he gasped. “Sometime today. Company’s com-coming who wants to see him.”

“Moving him
where
?” Rixey exerted a little more pressure on the blade. It was clear the threat of violence was enough with this guy. Didn’t do a lot to assuage the vengeance Rixey wanted to rain down on him for the bruises he’d put on Becca’s beautiful body, though.

“That’s all I know. Moving him to see some BFD company boss wants to impress. And I don’t know who the company is. Been real hush-hush. I swear.”

That shit didn’t sound good at all. Who the hell from outside Church’s organization would want to talk to Charlie? And why?

“I forget anything?” Rixey scanned over his team. Negative reactions all around. “I think we’re ready to take out the trash, then. Hey, Capitán?” he yelled to Miguel.

“Yo!” Miguel said.

“What kind of water temperatures we got out here this time of year?”

“Aw, damn. High forties, low fifties at best.”

Nick shook his head. “Well, shit, Tyrell. I dump you out here like I want, you’ll be hypothermic in an hour.”

Tyrell’s eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. “No, no drowning. Man, please.”

“What exactly are you going to do to make it worth my while to leave you alive? Because I don’t want to have to fucking deal with you again. You understand me?” Nick planted the business end of the knife into the soft skin under his jaw.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll stay away. No more. I’m out.”

Nick nodded to Marz. “Well, just to make sure that’s true, why don’t you show Hollywood here that you could make him a star?”

Marz turned the phone around, a moving picture of the guy blubbering about Charlie’s location playing on the screen.

“I even
think
I’ve seen you. We even run into each other at the grocery store. Just once. And I’ll make sure Jimmy Church gets a copy of this. Understood?”

Sniveling now, Tyrell nodded.

“Find us a drop-off, Capitán,” Rixey called over a sudden gust of wind. The boat came around, causing Nick to slide on his knees. Beck grabbed his arm until he regained his balance. Rixey gave him a nod, digging how slowly but surely the team was coming back into itself.

The coordinated response to the unexpected development of Tyrell’s buddies showing up was a perfect example. From their appearance until Nick had this shithead on the ground was about ninety seconds. About forty-five seconds too long for him, given what had happened to Becca. But it was almost like the team had picked up where it had left off. Except for their six missing brothers. That shit could never be made right.

“ETA five minutes,” Miguel called. Hanging onto the railing, Becca made her way back to her seat.

“Roger that.” Soon the roar of the engines dulled and the boat slowed, allowing the waves to rock the boat more than they had at higher knots. Nick stood, saw where they were, and grinned under the mask. Priceless. A man-made hexagonal island in the middle of the bay, not far from the mouth of the harbor. He gave a thumbs-up. “Masks in the rear,” he called.

Easy slipped his on in one smooth motion, while Miguel fumbled with his for a minute.

When they were all secure except for Becca—whose appearance the banger unfortunately already knew—Rixey hauled him off the floor with the guys’ help. “Okay, Tyrell. We’ll get you as close as we can, and you can attempt to jump to dry land. Worst-case scenario, you get a little wet, but you’ll survive. Ride’s over.”

“What? You can’t leave me out here.” His expression was almost cartoonlike with disbelief.

“I can do anything I want.” Nick shoved him to starboard.

Miguel guided the boat in close to the wall, but he had to stay about three feet off to keep from getting pushed into it by the waves.

“Off you go,” Rixey said, regret that he couldn’t rid the world of scum like this once and for all feeling like a rock in his stomach. But even though they no longer wore the uniform, they couldn’t go total vigilante without risking the loss of a vital part of themselves—the guiding principle of doing the right thing. In this situation, the right thing just happened to require some questionable means. He didn’t relish that fact, but there it was.

Tyrell stepped up onto the boat’s wide ledge. “Fuck,” he yelled, and jumped.

Miguel didn’t need to be told to gun it. He got underway again before any other boaters happened by.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Tyrell roared from the retaining wall of the small island.

Nick laughed and waved a hand. And then they were hauling ass back to shore.

“What say I call the harbormaster and let them know Becca’s attacker’s waiting out at Fort Carroll Light?” Miguel asked.

“Roger that,” Nick said, tugging off his mask. Everyone followed suit. Nick squeezed by Beckett, slipped down the side of the cockpit, and stepped in front of Becca’s tall chair. Hair windblown, cheeks flush, eyes wide, she was so fucking beautiful it hurt.

Those baby blues glassed over and she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

Aw, shit
. Relief nearly took him to his knees. His arms came around her. “Sshh, sunshine. You don’t owe me an apology. If anything, I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.”

She shook her head against his neck. “I believe you. I hate it. I hate that this is the truth of my father. I hate what happened to you. But I believe you. And I know you couldn’t tell me. I understand.” She trembled against him.

He pulled back and gripped her face. That she’d come to him with belief and understanding heated parts of his soul he thought might never again be warm. “We’re okay? Can you forgive me?”

Eyes wet and uncertain, she said, “Yes. Can you forgive me, too?”

“It’s not even a thing.” He kissed her. Right there in front of everyone. Guys hadn’t missed a fucking thing anyway. They already knew Rixey was way the hell into her. And making things right with Becca was more important than whatever pussy-whipped comments this might earn him later. “You okay?” he asked, bending to look at her throat. For a moment, his gaze went hazy. The skin was scratched and red.

“It’s sore, but it’s okay.” She patted his chest, a silent request for him to step back, and then she slipped off her stool. “I need to do something.”

“Okay,” he said, not sure what . . .

She made the few steps to the stern, where Easy sat on the back corner, and said something Nick couldn’t hear over the wind. And then she hugged him. Easy’s arms came around her slowly but hugged her back. And then they were nodding to each other.

Nick had no clue what she was doing. She squeezed his hand as she passed him, heading to the bow. And she repeated the same action with Marz, who wore a big goofy grin afterward. With Shane, who was visibly moved, and finally with Beckett, whom Nick’d never seen hug another person before in his life.

Over his shoulder, Nick asked Easy, “What did she say?”

The guy stood up, gave a nod of respect that shone in his eyes, and looked at Rixey. “She said she’s sorry for her father. That she’ll do whatever she can to make up for it. And that she believes us.” Easy’s voice was strained as he spoke.