Succubus Tear (Triune promise) (32 page)

Plans within Plans

“God bless the Irish, men whom God made mad. For no matter how much I drink, I put it on me tab.”

—Vincent O’Malley

Vincent sighed and sat down in the bridge of his ship,
The Dalish Dreamer
.

“You okay, Captain?”

“No, where’s tha’ med-kit?” Vincent grumbled as he started to open the rich solid mahogany cabinets.

“Ease up, Captain. I’ve got it.”

“Bless ye, James.” He sighed and sat to wrap the bite wounds on his finger. “Goddamn, tha’ lass can bite hard,” he muttered under his breath. He didn’t even realize he was bit until one of his crew pointed out the blood from his hand. Four distinct puncture marks, all the way to the bone.

He finished up the wrap, glad the bleeding stopped, and even more glad the pain stopped as well. He just finished packing up the med-kit when the door opened.

“Captain, they are in the forward galley. Two of them had guns. We disarmed them and set their weapons on the table.”

“Very good, make ready tae get underway,” Vincent said and strode to the galley. Ah, he never got tired the sea, or his ship.
The Dalish Dreamer
was an eighty-foot, twin-masted beauty that had been in his family for three generations now. His grandfather was a fisherman all his life, and the ship was a dream realized.

White poly-carbon fiber hull, with rich cherry wood trimmings. Sleek electronics, with
 a state-of-the-art wireless refit for all computer systems. The yacht was the pride of the O’Malley family, and the envy of more than a few billionaires. He swept into the forward galley, a venue used strictly for family or distinguished guests. It too was recently updated: cranberry-wine carpet, kauri wood wet-bar, and all the fine furnishings and trappings befitting royalty, or at least one hardworking man who accepted nothing less than the very best.

I miss you, Da,
Vincent thought, with a wee bit of sorrow.

Most of the furnishings, luxury, and systems
 the ship enjoyed couldn’t have been purchased at any price. They were gifts from those who owed his father their lives many times over. His father, Geoffrey, like his father before him, was a fisherman as well. But the man had a dark past as well, using his father’s ship to ferry passengers or other illicit goods. All the while, he maintained a semblance of honor, never taking nor ruining the lives of the innocent.

“Barnes, take a hike, I wanna talk tae these three alone.”

“Captain.”

Vincent looked at the weapons on the table and walked over to them. “A Smith and Wesson, six twenty-nine. Nice!” Vincent said, examining Cain’s gun and emptying the chambers. “It was fired recently,” he muttered as he pocketed the five bullets and placed the gun on the bar. He picked up Stella’s gun. “Colt, nineteen eleven,” he said and slid the magazine out and tested its weight. “Yeh only keep a half-loaded magazine?” he said with raised eyebrows.

“Three rubber bullets on top as well,” Stella muttered.

Vincent laughed as he slid the magazine in his pocket and placed Stella’s gun next to Cain’s. “If you’ll forgive me for a moment, I have some business tae attend.” Vincent whistled merrily to the parking lot that was nearby, and walked up to an SUV awaiting him.

“Knock, knock, me matey!” he said with a comical expression, and he rapped his fingers on the one-way tinted glass. After a few moments he pulled a face, sticking out his tongue and bugging out his eyes. The door opened a centimeter, but the movement was so sudden, Vincent flinched and backed up, nearly falling over.

“Ah, Walter. I almost was beginning tae think that yeh weren’t going tae show.”
 

“They are all on your ship?” Walter said, glancing over the pristine sail yacht.

“Yeah, all three of ‘em. Now, where’s the money?” Vincent said, grabbing at the envelope Walter had in his hand.

“Seven hundred thousand,” Walter said, keeping his grip on the envelope, and waited until he had Vincent’s attention.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, take ‘em where they wanna go. No cops, no nothing.”

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” Walter hissed. “Do you know of a vessel called
Wings of Autumn
?”

“Hell yeah! That triple mast, orange-sailed beauty.” He grinned wistfully. “Lost at sea abou’ six months ago.”

Walter shook his head. “Oh, it’s not lost, I assure you. I know exactly where it is.”

“Where?” Vincent asked, almost too eager.

“Right next to where your ship will be, if you double-cross me,” Walter said, letting go of the check.

Vincent chuckled to himself as he watched him go. He wondered what the captain of the
Wings of Autumn
did to piss Walter off. “Such a damn shame,” he muttered, thinking about the waste as he emptied Stella’s magazine and tossed her bullets along with Cain’s into the harbor.

“All hands,” Vincent barked as he happily boarded the ship. “Make sail! Take us out of the harbor at half dock speed.”

“Aye, sir!” the men called out as Vincent ducked into the galley.

“Okay, Cain, Al’bah, and Stella…where do yeh want tae go?” Vincent said, looking at the three dazed passengers.

Cain looked up and into Vincent’s eyes. “What difference does it make? We’re fucked.”

Vincent broke out laughing. “Maybe,” he said, once he got himself under control. “But, I am being paid quite well tae ensure that yeh can at least put a rubber on. Which is to say yeh get a running start.”

“How much?” Cain said, narrowing his eyes.

“Seven hundred thousand dollars, if you want tae know,” Vincent said with exaggerated hip and head motions.

Vincent broke out laughing again. Why did everything become better when all your problems (at least financial ones) were gone in an instant? All his corny jokes were funnier, the food tasted better, the sun shone brighter, and even his health got…well…healthier.

“Bullshit, seven hundred thousand dollars is chump change for a yacht like this.”

Vincent stopped laughing as Cain’s words rang out.
Damn, this one is sharp.
“Fair enough, lad. Once I drop yeh off, I get ten times that much. More than enough tae transport a few wanted fugitives with no questions asked.”

“Virginia Beach,” Cain said quietly.

“Virginia Beach it is! Now until we get there, yeh free tae move about, and do as ye wish. My men don’t know that you’re wanted. So, if the cat gets out of the bag, it will be your own fault.”

He pulled out the magazine to the Colt 1911 and his Desert Eagle and set it on the table. “Although I have orders that yaur are not tae be killed, those orders are flexible if yeh try anything stupid, or heroic. Simply put, the feds gave out their normal fifty thousand dollar reward. I just got a payday that will bring me right along tae being set for life.”

Vincent shrugged. “So, I have no reason tae double-cross my employer, and I don’t owe the Feds a damn thing. There’s no reason for us tae not enjoy the two-day journey. No reason for anyone tae get hurt or killed. I dinnae’ want that, I’m the kinda guy who won’t stack wood where I dinnae’ need a fire. So you’ll just have tae forgive me taking the liberty of throwing out your ammo.”

“So, can I have my gun back? Can I go? I need a wee bit of fresh air,” Cain grumbled.

Vincent roared with laughter and gestured to the table where the three guns sat. “Unless you want a drink, I’m in the mood tae celebrate my good fortune, and my beautiful passengers’ company.”

Without a word Cain got up, took his gun, and walked out.

Vincent walked behind the bar and grunted happily, glad the sourpuss left the room. He picked out a few golden goblets from the locked display and placed them on the bar. “Now then, ladies. Would anyone like a drink? Aww, c’mon, don’t look at me like that. I’m not a bad man. In fact, I’ve just saved you from getting taken in by the authorities.” Vincent made a theatrical parody of a bow. “A fisherman, gentleman, a pirate, just a man who’s troi-ing to make his own way in the world.”

Stella holstered her own gun and sat at the bar.

“Bottled water, if you have it” she said unhappily.

“I have some of the best water in the world. There is Fillico, Veen, Tasmanian Rain—”

“Fiji.”

“Ah, uh…okay, not so fine, but okay.” Vincent looked up at the other young lady.

My God, she is the most beautiful lady I have ever seen. What in the world did that sourpuss do, to get a lady like that?

He entertained the notion of trying to get to know her better, but he was a good enough judge of women to know that her heart was completely devoted to Cain. And besides, where women were concerned, he valued his stance of being a gentleman. “And you, my gorgeous young lass? Hello? Al’bah?”

Al’bah jumped up with a start and looked around the room in panic. “Cain, where is Cain?” she moaned, and left the room as well.

Stella turned back to the bar and slid the bottle back to Vincent. “An unopened bottle, if you don’t mind.”

Vincent flashed a wide smile. “What, dinnae’ trust me? The guy who saved your arse?”

After a moment of indignant stares, he took a long swig from the bottle and slid an unopened one to her. Stella was gorgeous, too. She and Al’bah made quite the visual impact. On one hand you had a dark beauty: mysterious, emotional, and yet reserved as it concerned socializing. On the other you had a fair beauty: cold, brave, and, if he was not mistaken, outspoken.

“So, tell me, did it all go down like the news says?”

Stella set down her bottle and removed her jacket. “Let’s pass this line of conversation; I’d like to know who paid you.”

Vincent laughed hard. “Boy, yeh
are
a detective, aren’t ya, lassie?” He gestured with his head toward the door. “The lad dinnae’ ask, and I think we both know why.”

“But—”

Vincent took Stella’s water as some of the animation and humor drained from his face. “Look, whether or not yeh and tha lad are killers is of no importance tae me. I found out tha hard way long ago that standing up for what’s roight leaves yeh poor at best, and dead at worst. What would have happened if I did the roight thing and turned you lot into the authorities?”

He opened a bottle and poured her a drink
in the gold goblet. “A pat on the head fer doing me civic duty, and then they’d ask me tae pay taxes to fund their congratulations celebration at city hall with no invitation fer me.”

Stella didn’t pick up the drink; she just stared at the bar. “So, you’d just let murderers of the innocent go?”

Vincent cringed internally at the way her words cut.
She sure does know how to twist and manipulate words. Okay, cop, let’s see how you like it when the tables are turned.
“Okay then, how ‘bout I drop yeh off so yeh can turn yourself in? The deal was primarily fer Cain, and Al’bah. It included the possibility that others could have been with him. So, dropping yeh off wont double-cross my employer and yeh can rat us out, if ya want.”

He took a swig of the wine, straight from the bottle. “Would that serve the interest of doing the right thing, murderer?”

Stella glared at Vincent. “
We’re innocent, you asshole!
” she shouted.

Vincent gave a wry smile, savoring the way he cut Stella right back. “Oh, I’ll bet me ship yeh heard that line more times than ya can remember. And, I’ll note that for the time being at least, yeh are not doing the roight thing.”

Stella lowered her gaze to the goblet of wine, and gulped it down. “Could I have some more, please?”

Vincent turned to get another bottle.

“No, that one is okay.”

“You sure, lass? My lips were on that.”

Stella took the bottle and was about to drink from it straight, when Vincent stopped her.

“My lady,” Vincent said as he poured her more wine in the
goblet and retrieved a key from his pocket. “Fergive me crude behavior, and words. The key has your room number on it. It is a single.”

He poured himself a
goblet and continued. “Fer what it’s worth, I am truly sorry that you’re in this situation. I am sorry that I profit from it. The world isn’t kind to people like yeh, and people like me don’t like tae be reminded of ‘ow much it actually hurts to sell our ethics.”

“Small comfort. I am still likely to wind up dead or in prison,” Stella huffed
, and gulped down her second goblet.

Vincent retrieved his gun and holstered it. “Now I don’t know ‘bout that.” Vincent pointed out the window. “Somewhere out there, someone decided tae pay me seven million dollars, ensuring yeh get away from the authorities.”

Stella’s brow furrowed, and Vincent poured her another drink.

“I got to go; the men need to know where we are going. My ship and I are at your service.”

Painful Ignorance

“Holy shit! Cain, what did you get yourself into?”

—Charlie Tsukada