36. Ryder

"Ryder?"

Luna spoke in a barely audible whisper, but her distress came through loud and clear.

"Moon? What's going on?"

Thank fuck she'd called. After Knox activated the emergency alert, Ryder had nearly been deafened by gunfire before the line went dead. The ferry didn't leave Malavilla for another thirty minutes, and although he'd begun scouting for alternative transport, the harbour was deathly quiet early on a Tuesday afternoon. The fishing boats wouldn't return until the evening, and the pleasure craft were dark, no owners in sight.

"Men showed up with guns! One of them tried to grab me, so I threw coffee at him and hit him with the kettle. I-I-I think he might be dead."

Ryder had been in many firefights during his varied career, and at the time, they'd been pretty hair-raising. But now he realised there was nothing more terrifying than a woman he cared about facing armed men while he was several miles away.

"Where's Knox?"

"I don't know! There was more shooting, and he…he…he went outside again. Only Franklin is here, and he's hurt."

Jubilee was standing on tiptoes, trying to listen in, but Luna's voice was soft as a breath on the wind.

"Is Luna all right?" she asked.

"Yes, but there's trouble. We need to get back fast."

Jubilee's eyes saucered. "Trouble?"

"Find a boat."

"Okay." She stepped back. "Okay."

Ryder turned his attention back to Luna. There was only silence from the phone now. The gunfire had stopped.

"When did you last hear a shot?"

"A minute ago? Two minutes? What should I do? Knox told me to stay here, but Franklin's b-b-bleeding."

"Are you hurt?"

"Not really."

What the fuck did that mean? "I'm coming, moon. I'm on my way. Where are you?"

"In the dining room. Knox pushed the table over and made me hide behind it."

A male voice spoke. "Emergency services have been alerted, but they don't seem prepared for an incident of this nature, and they won't send medics in without backup."

"Who's that?" Luna asked. "Who's that man?"

"His name is Matt, and he works for Blackwood. They're coordinating a response." Ryder had patched them in to Luna's call—the more information they had, the better. "Where's Franklin?"

"By the door."

"And Caro?"

"I…I didn't see her, not once."

If Caro was sensible, she'd be hiding. Franklin was alive but injured, and Knox… Either he was still hunting, or he was hurt. Hurt bad, because he'd have come back to Luna otherwise, unless he'd gone to look for Caro because it was obvious he was halfway in love with her, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"I need you to listen, moon. Listen to your surroundings. What do you hear?"

"Nothing. I hear nothing!"

"Can you hear the sea? The water lapping at the beach?"

A pause. "Y-y-yes."

"That's your baseline. What else?"

"F-f-Franklin breathing."

"What else?"

"Birds. The ground doves that Caro feeds and…and the gray kingbirds."

In the better days, before that stupid social media post, they'd shared lunch and dinner outside, all six of them. Ryder and Luna, Knox and Caro, Franklin and Jubilee. Franklin had begun teaching the girls about the local wildlife, how to identify different birds by their calls. Ryder had spent time listening to birds too. Hunkered down in the forest with his team in the midst of an operation, waiting to make their next move. Whenever danger approached, the birds fell silent. If you can't hear me, I don't exist. If the birds were singing again, that meant the threat had passed, or the enemy was hiding. Were they hiding? No, that didn't feel right. They'd come hard and fast, get in, get out. They were either dead or gone.

"Check on Franklin."

"But—"

"It's okay. Check on him."

A long moment passed. "Franklin?" Rustling. "Franklin?"

Ryder heard the faintest groan.

"He's bleeding."

"Where's he bleeding from?"

"His shoulder, mostly, and his leg."

"How much blood? Are we talking a trickle or a gush?"

"It's soaking into his shirt. Like, there's a bit underneath him." So the wounds probably didn't involve arteries. "He has a lump on his head."

"Okay, there's a first-aid kit in the far bunkhouse. You need to?—"

Another voice, and not one from Blackwood. Pissed off. Shouty.

"What the devil is going on here? What's all this noise?"

"Who's that?" Luna asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a neighbour." Lyron, the asshole who reported the drone. "Find something you can use as a weapon if you need to. Where's the kettle?"

"I have a gun."

Where the fuck had she gotten a gun from? Ryder took a steadying breath, willing himself to stay calm.

"Do you remember how to use it? Don't put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to fire."

One night on the beach, she'd asked about his gun, and he'd shown her how to handle it safely, oddly pleased that she was interested in his job. He'd never dreamed she'd need that knowledge.

"I already shot at a guy, but I moved my finger now."

Fucking hell.

"Go and see who's out there. Keep the gun at your side."

This was worse than facing a whole army of insurgents. Ryder's pulse thrummed loud in his ears, a soundtrack to the real-life horror movie unfolding on Valentine Cay.

"Who are you?" Luna called, and Ryder was beyond proud that her voice didn't shake. But she was good at hiding her feelings around strangers. "What are you doing here? This is private property."

"So is my land, young lady, and I'm entitled to peaceful enjoyment of my home. Which is what I got until the likes of you showed up. First that drone, and now firecrackers. Where's Franklin?"

"Don't come any closer."

"Is that a gun? I'm calling the police. You can't come to Valentine Cay and threaten people like that."

"Tell that to all the men who just showed up and started shooting at us."

"What men?"

"How the freaking heck should I know? We didn't send invitations."

"Where are they now?"

"Two of them are dead in the dining room, and the others are probably waiting to shoot your stupid ass if you don't get behind a tree or something."

"The dining room? Get out of my way, child. Someone needs to teach you— Franklin? What the…?"

"I think he got shot."

"And you're just standing there? I need gauze, gloves, scissors."

"Do you know first aid?"

"I was a combat medic in Nam. Hurry! And call an ambulance."

A combat medic? That was the first sliver of good news, although the man was still a dick. If Lyron hadn't complained about the drone, Ryder would be there applying compression himself. Hell, he could have taken out the man who injured Franklin before the asshole got off a shot.

"The police are already on their way, medics too," Luna said. "But this tinpot country doesn't seem to have a SWAT team, so who knows when they'll show up."

"Get the first-aid kit," Ryder told her. "Green bag on the spare bed next to the door. After that, you need to find Knox and Caro. Run." Then, to Matt, "Can we narrow down the location?"

"Working on it. No signal from Knox's phone, but his smartwatch is still transmitting."

Luna's breathing got rougher as she ran to the bunkhouse. She was fit from all the dancing she usually did, but Ryder feared panic was getting the better of her. Jubilee had been talking animatedly with the guy at the burrito stand, and now she was jogging back in Ryder's direction.

"The burrito guy's brother works at the big hotel near here. I offered them five thousand dollars, and he's on his way with the boat they use for wakeboarding. Apparently, it does forty-three knots. I don't really know what that means, but I think it's fast?"

About as fast as they'd find around here. "You did good."

"How's Luna?"

"She's okay. The neighbour showed up, and he used to be a medic before he turned into a whiny prick, so he's helping out."

"Knox is roughly forty yards east of the largest building at the turtle sanctuary. We've overlaid a satellite image, and he looks to be in a forested area. Heart rate one-sixty, blood pressure dropping."

Injured but alive. Heart rate increased with stress and pain, and usually blood pressure did too. If Knox's was dropping, that meant he was losing blood, and if he was still stuck in the trees, he'd lost too much.

"Moon, did you get that?"

"Which way is east?"

"Toward the pool rooms. Head into the trees behind the dining room, and then turn toward the pool rooms. Let Lyron get what he needs from the first-aid kit and take the rest with you."

A boat engine sounded in the distance, getting rapidly louder. Their ride?

"I don't know any first aid."

"I'll talk you through what you need to do. If Knox is bleeding, the key thing is to apply pressure to the wound. Pack it with gauze, and then lean on it."

A boat sped toward them, a young Black man waving from the driver's seat. Colourful wakeboards were stacked in a rack on one side, and electropop blared from bone-shaking speakers.

Ryder covered his ears. "Get him to turn that damn music off," he said to Jubilee as a shriek came through the phone.

"Moon, what is it? What happened?"

"Th-there's a man, and half of his head is gone."

"Do you recognise him?"

"I…I… No."

"Good. Keep going."

The music shut off, and Ryder jumped into the boat, then lifted Jubilee in after him. She collapsed onto a seat and gripped the canopy support so hard her knuckles turned white.

"We need to get to the turtle sanctuary at Valentine Cay."

The driver nodded, relaxed, too relaxed. "Sure, man, that's what the lady said."

Ryder had little choice but to sit as the boat zoomed off, and hearing anything through the phone was a struggle with the rushing wind. But he didn't miss Luna's shout.

"I see him! Oh my gosh."

"Where is he hit?"

"His leg. Like, near the top."

"Is he conscious?"

"Hang on, hang on."

The next voice Ryder heard was Knox's, weak but coherent.

"They…took her. Fuckers took her."

He must mean Caro. Ryder cursed hard. Had they gone by land or by water? He scanned the sea for other vessels, but there was only a fishing boat on the horizon.

"Then let's get you fixed up so we can get her back. How bad are you hit, buddy?"

"Losing…blood. Not…an artery."

Another tiny piece of good news.

"I have the gauze," Luna said. "What do I do with it?"

"Cut Knox's shorts away. Find the wound."

"XSTAT," Knox said. "Find XSTAT."

Knox was in the best position to assess the wound, and he felt a different treatment would work better—tiny sponges impregnated with a clotting agent that were injected into the wound track and would expand and absorb to stop the bleeding.

"Luna, you're looking for a plastic tube, like a fat syringe. It's called XSTAT. Use the plunger to push the contents into the wound."

"I feel sick."

"If…if you need to puke…go over there," Knox told her, and his words were followed by a hissing groan. "Fuck, that stings."

"Now what?" Luna asked. "Should I use the gauze?"

"I'm less than five minutes away. Now we're looking for painkillers and a tourniquet."

A new voice came over the comms. "They're going to fucking pay for this."

Emmy managed to sound both furious and ice-cold at the same time, and Ryder knew one thing with certainty—he wouldn't want to be in the raiders' shoes when the boss arrived in San Gallicano.

* * *

"You did amazing, moon. Perfect."

She'd held it together until the cavalry arrived, a coastguard boat with medics on board, plus a dozen armed members of the Special Services Group, the paramilitary force that passed for an army in San Gallicano. When an EMT took the saline bag she'd been holding and told her they had everything under control, she'd sagged into Ryder's arms, and then the tears had come. Apart from quickly hugging Jubilee, she'd been clinging to him ever since. Not that he wanted her to let go. The cops had told them to wait in the girls' bunkhouse, the only place that hadn't been tainted by the armed gang.

"I thought I was going to die. I thought everyone was going to die."

"But they didn't, and a lot of that was thanks to you."

Baptiste was still alive, stable but concussed. Knox was high on ketamine and on his way to the OR. Caro… She'd put up a fight, but she was gone. Perhaps the dog had helped too—there was blood on Tango's muzzle.

The first thing Ryder had seen when they neared the sanctuary was the remains of Baptiste's boat, taking on water and listing badly to port. And when the wakeboat pulled up to the beach, he saw the scuff marks in the sand. The struggle. Caro had fought her captors in the hatchery, that part of the beach where turtle eggs were carefully reburied and monitored. They'd taken her and left six of their teammates behind. Five dead, one unconscious. Knox had taken out three of them with bullets to the head, and the giant in the fifth pool room with the spear sticking out his chest, Ryder had to assume that was Caro's handiwork. A fifth man lay face down in the dining room, but who had killed him was unclear—Luna said she'd fired at him, and he had a hole in his chest, but the neat double tap suggested Knox had also gotten involved. The sixth man in the kitchen, the one Luna had clocked with the kettle—twice, it turned out—had been loaded into an ambulance with skin peeling from his face.

"What will happen now? Am I gonna get arrested again?" Luna asked.

"No. But even if you were, I'd break you out of jail." Ryder kissed her hair. "I swear."

He'd wanted to go to the hospital with Knox, but Emmy told him to stay put. She was in New York with her jet en route to JFK, reading through the files and scheming as she waited to depart. A team was assembling in Virginia. Ryder didn't yet know who would be on it, but Emmy was seething, furious about an unprovoked attack, so she'd want justice to be swift and hard.

"You think the cops are dirty?" she'd asked.

"Some of them, at least."

"Then don't let them cover this up."

Ryder didn't plan on it.

"Where are we going to stay tonight?" Luna asked. "I mean, I'm not supposed to leave, but this is, like, a crime scene."

"I'm not sure yet."

"We can't just abandon the place. What about the turtles? Somebody has to feed the turtles. And why isn't anyone looking for Caro?"

Because nobody knew where the hell to start. She'd vanished without a trace. And they weren't even certain whether she was the intended abductee. Right before the burned guy tried to grab Luna, she'd heard another man yell, "Get the woman." Had they planned to snatch her and ended up with Caro in a case of mistaken identity? Or was Caro a consolation prize, a desperate attempt not to leave empty-handed? Had they been trying for both girls and only managed to take one?

Knox might know, but he was in surgery. The bullet had gone through his thigh, missing his bone by a fraction of an inch and narrowly avoiding his femoral artery. Ryder didn't have any answers. Sure, they'd found the drives and the possible Cuba connection, but that still didn't explain why more than half a dozen armed men had attacked the sanctuary, conveniently when Ryder wasn't there. And when he thought harder about it, maybe they'd believed Knox wasn't there either? Jubilee had borrowed his ball cap and a bulky jacket to avoid being spotted, and as they drove to the ferry, she'd been slouched down in the passenger seat, fiddling with her phone. Had the enemy been watching? Had they expected to overrun the sanctuary without a fight?

"Wait with Jubilee, and I'll see what I can find out."

"Don't leave me here."

Ryder hugged her tightly. "You've seen enough dead bodies to last a lifetime."

"I'd rather wade through gore than leave your side right now."

He opened his mouth to argue, then decided against it. "Okay, moon. Okay."

Vince Fernandez was standing outside the dining room, talking to the police chief. Hard to trust either of them at this moment. Fernandez looked stressed, raking a hand through messy brown hair and frowning constantly. Concerned that kidnapping and attempted murder had happened on his watch? Or afraid that his links to the criminals would be discovered?

"Is there an update?" Ryder asked.

The chief looked him up and down. "We're not at liberty to discuss this case with civilians."

"We're civilians who had to deal with this for almost an hour by ourselves because the authorities in San Gallicano didn't have an appropriate response team. Our friend is still missing. Don't you think that's earned us the right to know what's going on?"

"We have procedures to follow."

"Procedures?" Luna snapped. "Procedures? I was sent here for the heinous crime of putting sunglasses on a turtle, and I told the judge I wasn't safe. But oh, no, he knew best and made me come anyway. Now a psycho tries to kidnap me, and you whine about procedures? You people put my life in danger! I'm going to sue the San Gallicano Police Department for every cent they have, and when I'm done, you won't be able to get a job as a mall cop."

"Ma'am, I?—"

"Don't you ‘ma'am' me. I'm not my freaking mother. Do your job, if you're even capable. Or are you corrupt too?"

"Ma'am, uh, miss, nobody in the San Gallicano Police Department is corrupt."

"Oh, really? Then explain why all the shooting happened at the exact time your officers had called my security away to take some dumb test for a drone permit."

She folded her arms and glared at the man, and Ryder had never loved her more.

Wait.

Did he love her?

When it came to Luna, Ryder's feelings were a mess, but he more than liked her. Yet their relationship, if you could call it that, was based on a lie, a lie that he'd been afraid to correct in case he lost her.

The chief glanced at Fernandez, and clearly, this was the first he'd heard about the drone permit. Fernandez tried to explain.

"Jason Roy called me to ask for Caro Menefee's number. Said a neighbour complained about a drone flying over his property, and peacekeeping was needed."

"Peacekeeping?" Luna spat. "Is that what you call this?"

Ryder laid a hand on her arm. "Officer Roy told Caro that if we didn't register for a permit right away, in person, he'd come over and confiscate the drone."

"Understandable," the chief said. "One of those things buzzed my wife by the pool last month, and we're trying to discourage recreational use. I sent out a directive."

"We weren't using it for recreational purposes. As Luna said, a man's been stalking her, and the drone was an important part of our security protocol. You confined us to this location, took away our eyes, and divided our team."

"So you're saying that this young lady's stalker was responsible for"—the chief waved a hand at the devastation—"all this?"

"We don't know. While we were here on the island, we became aware of poaching activity in the local area, and we started looking into it, seeing as the police department didn't have the capability to do so."

"Now, wait a minute…" Fernandez started. "I spent days on stakeouts whenever Caro told me about bait lines, but nobody ever came back to check on them."

"Yeah, funny that."

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"I'm just saying it's a mighty big coincidence that whenever we gave you a lead, that lead became a dead end."

"And that's all it can be—a coincidence. You think I'd do anything to hurt Caro? She's a friend. A good friend. I'm as worried as you are, and standing here arguing isn't going to help us find her."

The chief held up both hands, stopping the fight. "You're right. Everyone needs to simmer down. Vince, you get on with your work. Mr. Metcalfe, Miss Puckett, wait in the bunkhouse, please. If you have a formal complaint to make about one of my officers, you need to follow proper procedure, and it will be investigated accordingly."

"I'm calling my lawyer," Luna snapped, but the chief just walked away.

This was a damn nightmare. They had carnage, but no clues. Bodies, but no names. Before the authorities showed up, Ryder had taken pictures of the intruders and sent them to Agatha. Blackwood would try to match names to the faces, well, three of them—the guy with the burns wasn't easily recognisable, and two of the gunmen Knox had flanked were missing chunks of their heads.

"Let me check in with my boss first. I bet she already hired a lawyer."

"You think? Because my lawyer isn't very good."

"Emmy Black only hires the best."

"Did you say Emmy Black?" a voice asked from behind. Ryder turned to find a member of the Special Services Group approaching, and he looked serious.

"You know her?"

"I know of her. How is she involved with this?"

"I work for Blackwood, and so does one of the men who got shot. She's pretty pissed."

"Man…" The guy shook his head. "I wouldn't want to be one of those assholes if she shows up."

"She'll be here by morning."

He gave a nervous laugh. "Wonder how soon I can catch a flight out of here?"

Ryder got the impression he was only half joking.

"Did you want something?" Fernandez asked the newcomer. Not quite a snap, but he was definitely riled after their earlier conversation.

"Yeah, so there's been…a development."

"What development?"

The guy glanced at Ryder and Luna, clearly unsure how much he should say in front of civilians. What did he know?

"Just spit it out," Fernandez ordered. "We have nothing to hide."

Another glance, but the guy did as instructed. "We think…" He swallowed. "We think we can identify one of the victims."

Ryder's anger came hot and fast. "The victims? Don't you mean the perpetrators?"

"It's the body without a face."

"Which body without the face?" Fernandez asked. "We have two of those."

"The one nearest the dining area."

The pro.Knox had managed to communicate the basic facts before he got carried away on a stretcher.

"You're talking about the dead gunman who was creeping toward Ms. Maara before he turned and attempted to shoot my colleague?"

"I don't know the exact circumstances of his death."

"Who is he?" Fernandez demanded.

"He's…he's one of us. Porter recognised his tattoos. The dead man is Sergeant Ellery Jackson from the Special Services Group."

A serving officer?

Fuck.

This mystery was more twisted than they'd ever imagined.