Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Read online

  She fetched the scissors from the junk drawer and handed them over. The muscles in Rafael’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent as Rosemary gingerly snipped the fabric away from his wound. When she folded it back, the sight of blood oozing from a round black hole in his flesh made Laurel gag. She swallowed hard and looked away.

  Rosemary pressed the towel against his side again. “Rafael, who did this to you?”

  “A crazy man,” he croaked. “A Russian.”

  Sergei. It had to be. But why would he attack Rafael?

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Her mother’s voice was gentle, but urgent.

  “I was at the wharf this morning…gassing up my boat.” He paused to draw a long, stuttering breath. “Coast Guard…put out a call…a couple of boats caught in the storm…capsized. I was going to help.” His eyes closed again.

  “Laurel, can you get him a glass of water?”

  She brought the water, and her mother held it while Rafael took several small sips.

  After a few seconds, he continued. “This man came up…wanted to hire a boat…but everyone was busy. When I said no, he pulled a gun …told me he had to get to Big Sur right away.”

  Laurel gripped the back of the couch. Sergei was coming for her. That was the only reason he would be desperate enough to hijack a boat. He couldn’t know she’d found Richard’s flash drive, but maybe someone in the organization had heard that Victor and Martin had spoken to the authorities. It was hard to believe Snowflake and Twitchy had ratted them out, but who knew?

  Rafael’s dark brown eyes filled with pain as he met Rosemary’s gaze. “I had no choice. I’m sorry.”

  She squeezed his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I brought him here.” He glanced away. “Tried not to…tried to take him to another place…but he said your beach or he would shoot me. I crashed my boat on the rocks and jumped…Hoped he would drown, but he jumped free.”

  “Here, have another drink.” Rosemary held the glass to his lips. “How did you get shot?”

  Rafael leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. “I started to climb the cliff from the beach to the parking lot. He followed me…fired many shots. Finally hit me near the top.”

  That meant Sergei was close. He was probably outside right now, deciding on the best line of attack. Laurel glanced around wildly. The fireplace poker wouldn’t protect them from a gun. She had to get help.

  She pulled her phone from her back pocket and pushed the button. No bars, but her mother had a landline. “I’m going to call Jake.”

  She ran to the kitchen, grabbed the receiver from the vintage turquoise wall phone, and dialed. Relief flooded through her when Jake answered.

  “Hello?” His voice sounded oddly hollow, but clear.

  “You’ve got to come as quickly as you can!”

  “Laurel? What’s happened?

  “Sergei is here. He shot Rafael, and I think he’s going to try to break into the house.”

  Jake spat out a curse. “The highway is still closed just north of you. I’m in the truck on my way to meet Melody. A sheriff’s department helicopter with a couple of deputies is flying us down, but we can’t get there for at least an hour. Maybe longer.”

  A wave of impending hysteria threatened to overcome her. They would never be able to fend Sergei off that long.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Mom’s house, and you’ve got to come right away. Rafael’s bleeding. He needs a doctor.” She didn’t mention what Sergei might do if he managed to get in. She didn’t need to.

  “I’ll be there as fast as I can. And Laurel, if you can’t hold Ivanov off, go ahead and give him what he wants. The information on that drive isn’t worth anyone getting hurt.”

  She wasn’t so sure—look what had happened to Richard—but she kept her doubts to herself. “Okay. But hurry!”

  After hanging up, she scanned the kitchen for potential weapons. Her gaze lit on the knife block next to the stove. The butcher’s knife was potentially the most lethal, but it was too long to hide in her clothing, and her stomach turned over at the idea of plunging the big blade several inches into human flesh. She settled on her mother’s scalpel-sharp paring knife. It was short enough to slip into the pocket of her fleece top, and while it wasn’t as deadly, she might be able to slow Sergei down long enough to allow them to escape.

  She hurried back to the living room. “Help is coming, but it will be a while. We need to hold out as long as we can.”

  A loud pounding interrupted her. “Open the door! Open the door, now!”

  Rosemary tightened her grip on Rafael’s hand and turned to Laurel, naked fear in her eyes. “What should we do?”

  The front door was a thick slab of solid wood with heavy-duty hinges, but it was only as strong as the lock. She glanced around the large, open living room. For the first time, its broad expanses of glass became a negative instead of a positive. If Sergei didn’t shoot out the door lock, he could easily smash a window to gain entry.

  “I’ll stall him here while you two get out through the kitchen door.”

  Her mother stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “You will do no such thing! How could you think I would leave you to deal with this maniac on your own?”

  Rafael pressed the towel harder against his side and straightened with a pained grimace. “And I will not leave either of you.”

  That left few choices. “The only other thing I can think of is to block the door and windows with as much heavy furniture as we can.”

  Rosemary pushed up from the sofa. “I’ll help you. Quick.”

  The two women half-shoved and half-dragged the heaviest piece in the room, an antique Mexican sideboard, in front of the door while Sergei continued to shout and pound on it with his fist. They threw up a barricade of chairs, backed by the dining room table, across the front windows and were carrying the sofa to place in front of the west-facing bank of windows when a deafening boom shook the room. With simultaneous shrieks, they dropped the sofa.

  Sergei had shot the lock and was trying to push the door open. The sideboard wouldn’t hold for long. Laurel prodded her stunned brain for a new plan.

  “Laurel, get upstairs. Fast.” Her mother grasped Rafael’s arm. “We can hide in the bedroom closet. Can you stand?”

  “I think so.” He struggled to his feet and leaned heavily against her.

  Laurel got an idea and headed for the kitchen. Rafael was in no condition to run, but Sergei might not know that. “You two go on up. I’ll join you in a minute. I’m going to unlock the back door and leave it open. With luck, he’ll think we’ve escaped and look outside instead of searching the house.”

  On her way through the kitchen, she spotted the phone on the wall. Calling 9-1-1 was pointless since the authorities couldn’t reach them as long the highway was blocked. Jake, Melody and the deputies were their best hope. Laurel prayed conditions had improved enough for the helicopter to fly and that it reached them before Sergei did.

  ****

  Jake checked his dashboard clock for the thirty-second time since Laurel’s frantic call. On a normal day, the drive to the Point Sur Lighthouse would only take about twenty minutes, but he’d already had to stop twice to drag downed limbs off the highway. His brain was fixated on Laurel and Rosemary, alone with a badly injured man, trying to fend off a desperate and determined criminal. He could only hope Ivanov wasn’t cold-blooded enough to kill them all and burn down the house to destroy the evidence.

  Finally, he wheeled into the grassy field at the base of the huge stone outcropping that housed the lighthouse and its supporting buildings. He was almost dizzy with relief when he spotted the helicopter waiting a couple hundred yards away. Melody Hardison waited by the door and waved to him when he jumped out of his truck and ran toward her. They climbed in, joining the two deputies who were already in place, and took off.

  ****

  As Laurel left the kitchen, she notic
ed the noise from the front door had stopped, leaving the house eerily quiet. Her mother’s soft voice encouraging Rafael at the top of the stairs was the only sound. The silence was even more unnerving than Sergei’s shouting and banging. Apparently, he had given up trying to dislodge the heavy sideboard. So, where was he? The hair prickled on the back of her neck.

  She was half-way up the stairs when a voice halted her. “Stop. Now.”

  Her breath stilled as she turned slowly and mechanically, like a robot, to see Sergei, wet clothes clinging to him like plastic wrap, in the doorway from the kitchen. He advanced on her with a scowl on his face and a shiny silver automatic in his hand.

  How did he get in without making any noise?

  Then she realized it was her fault. She’d let him in. When he couldn’t budge the front door, he must have looked for another point of entry and found the back door standing open. Instead of assuming they’d escaped, he’d come inside.

  You idiot! How could you be so stupid?

  “Come down. Now.” He gestured with the pistol.

  She took one leaden step, then another. At least, regardless of what happened to her, her mother and Rafael were safely hidden.

  “Hurry up. I have no more patience.”

  She let her weight drop to one foot, then the other, until she reached the bottom of the stairs.

  He waved the gun again, then pointed it straight at her face. “You will give me the drive. Now.”

  Staring down the barrel, her only thought was that she needed to stall him. “What makes you think I have it? I told you before, I couldn’t find it.”

  “Maybe you didn’t have it when I was here before, but you have it now, and I have gone to a great deal of trouble to get here.”

  “Laurel, are you all right?” Her mother’s voice sounded from the top of the stairs.

  Sergei grabbed Laurel’s arm, jerked her against his chest, and pressed the gun to her temple. “Mrs. McDowell, come down now, and bring the man. I know he is here.”

  “He can’t come down.” Rosemary’s voice wavered. “He’s too weak from loss of blood.”

  “You will both come now, or I will shoot your daughter in the head. Do you understand?” He squeezed Laurel’s arm viciously, eliciting a short yelp.

  “Don’t hurt her! We’re coming.”

  “No, Mom!” Laurel shouted.

  Sergei smacked the side of her head with the gun. “Shut up.”

  The sudden, sharp pain stole the strength from her legs and brought tears to her eyes. When she crumpled, he jerked her back to her feet.

  Laurel waited helplessly as her mother helped Rafael make his way down the stairs, each step punctuated by a grunt. His face was ashen, and she had a death grip on the hand he had draped across her shoulders. When they reached the bottom, Sergei motioned them to move until they stood facing him and Laurel.

  He tightened his grasp on her upper arm until his fingers bit into the flesh. “Your daughter is being stubborn. Tell her to cooperate, or I will shoot you all. Right here. Right now. Starting with her. I don’t care.”

  Tears trickled down Rosemary’s cheeks. “Laurel, give him what he wants. Please. I’ll die if he hurts you. He won’t even have to waste a bullet.”

  The agony in her mother’s eyes nearly brought Laurel to her knees. “Mom—”

  “Remember what Jake said.”

  The information on the drive isn’t worth anyone getting hurt.

  She turned and jerked against Sergei’s grip. “Let them go, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Let them go, and I’ll take you to it.”

  He hesitated, glancing between the three of them, possibly weighing the difficulty of managing three hostages against the risk of leaving two of them alone. Finally, he motioned Rosemary and Rafael toward the sofa. “You, sit down.” He nudged Laurel with the pistol. “Get something to tie them up. And do not think you can escape.” He waved the gun in her face. “I will not hesitate to use this on your mother.”

  She ran into the kitchen, her brain churning. Her first priority had to be getting him away from her mother and Rafael, and that meant giving Sergei what he wanted. She found a spool of twine in the junk drawer and carried it back to the living room.

  “Tie them up, and make it tight,” Sergei ordered.

  Laurel followed his directions, binding her mother and Rafael at the wrists and ankles, then rose.

  Keeping his gaze and his weapon trained on her, their captor reached down with one hand to test the bonds. He straightened with a grunt. “Good. Now, you will give me the drive.”

  She nodded. “It isn’t here. Come with me.”

  He followed her through the kitchen and out the back door. She led him across the muddy yard toward the garage.

  “It is in your apartment? I did not find it there.”

  So, he had been her intruder, not some random meth-head as the deputies had believed. A surge of satisfaction nearly brought a smile when she realized he was the one Rufus had beaned with the heavy bronze sculpture. Too bad it hadn’t cracked his skull.

  She started up the outside stairs. “Richard did a remarkable job hiding the drive. I just found it this morning. How did you know?”

  Sergei grunted. “We are not as stupid as the police. As soon as they started getting close to our operation, we put ears inside.”

  She halted and stared at him. “Don’t try to tell me the Russian mob has a spy inside the FBI or the police.”

  He laughed. “Not a spy, a bug. Like I said, we are smart. We arranged for the wife of one of our associates to join the cleaning crew at the Carmel Police Station. She placed a few listening devices in strategic places. They never suspected a thing. Last night, we heard the FBI agent tell your friend you had found the flash drive.”

  An ugly curse slipped from her lips.

  “Did you look at it?” Sergei’s question was sharp and accusatory.

  “I couldn’t,” she lied. “It’s the wrong size for my laptop, and I don’t have an adapter. Besides, what do I care about the gallery’s business?” She unlocked the door, and he followed her inside.

  Rufus stirred and glanced up from his place on the couch. His green eyes narrowed, his ears flattened, and a low growl emanated from deep in his throat.

  “Get that monster out of my sight, or I will kill him as I should have done before.”

  Rufus growled louder and jumped to the floor. He fluffed his fur until he looked like an angry orange lynx. Laurel recognized his attack signals and hurried over to scoop him up before an actual confrontation occurred. “I’ll shut him in the bathroom.” He hissed and spat, but he didn’t scratch her or try to jump down.

  When she returned, Sergei was leaning against the kitchen counter, pointing his pistol straight at her stomach.

  “The drive. Now.”

  “I put it in here.” She opened a lower cabinet door and pulled out a large bag of dry cat food.

  He snorted. “I should have known that orange devil was involved somehow.”

  She reached in and felt around until her fingers touched the zippered plastic bag. “What I can’t figure out is why Richard hid it in my things in the first place. I thought you two were partners.”

  “We were, until he decided to dishonor the terms of the partnership.”

  “In what way?”

  “He was a thief.” Sergei spat the words out with contempt.

  “You think he was stealing from you?”

  “Not from me, directly, but from our silent partner, Mr. Roskov.”

  “Aah.” As Jake suspected, it all came back to the Russian.

  Sergei’s eyes narrowed, and his upper lip curled away from small, even teeth. “You have heard of Vladimir Roskov?”

  She shuddered as a chill passed through her. “Oh…uh…no. I assume he is a countryman of yours.”

  “Yes, and a very important man, one who does not tolerate betrayal or theft. When he discovered what Richard had done, he
ordered me to take care of the situation.”

  Something made her ask the question, although deep inside she knew—and feared—the answer. “And did you…take care of it?”

  “I did. When Richard would not give me the flash drive, I had to make certain he would not be able to give it to anyone else.”

  Her fingers curled around the bag holding the drive. “You killed him.”

  “I took no pleasure in the act.” Sergei shrugged. “I did what had to be done. I did manage to persuade him to tell me he had come here to retrieve the item in question, but the weakling died before telling me where it was. Now I know you have it, so here I am.”

  “Yes. Here you are,” she echoed softly.

  He stuck out his left hand. “Give it to me.”

  As she laid the plastic bag in his palm, she had a swift premonition she had just signed her own death warrant.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jake’s stomach lurched as the copter touched down in the middle of the deserted highway a half mile north of Earthly Delights. After his wake-up call from Melody, he’d grabbed a quick shower and checked out of the motel without taking time for breakfast, relying on the emergency Snickers bar in his glove compartment. Now, he couldn’t force food down if he tried. All he could think about was getting to Ivanov and taking him down before he harmed his captives.

  He reminded himself he’d seen Laurel under stress, and she had remained reasonably calm and level-headed. With so much at stake, surely she wouldn’t take unnecessary risks or do anything to provoke the Russian.

  With the rotor whup-whupping overhead, one deputy grabbed a shotgun from the small, locked arsenal in the back of the helicopter, while the other chose a sniper’s rifle. Melody had her service weapon, but Jake accepted their offer of a standard-issue pistol. Ivanov was an unknown quantity, and he wanted to be prepared for anything. They climbed out and ran, hunched-over while the helicopter waited. The plan called for the pilot to hang back from the house in order to avoid tipping Ivanov off to the officers’ presence before they were in place, then fly in to provide support once they located their target.