Caribbean Rescue (Coastal Fury Book 16), Matt Lincoln [best book recommendations .txt] 📗

“Oh, um, excuse me,” the boat-owner muttered, clearly confused by her actions.

She ignored him and set Eddy down before moving toward the helm.

“Don’t move, okay?” she called quietly over her shoulder to him. He didn’t respond to her, just sat still where she’d left him, which wasn’t unusual. He was a quiet child. Too quiet, to be honest, and it broke her heart that he had grown up to be like this. It was okay, though. They’d be gone from here soon to somewhere far away where he could grow up like a normal little boy.

She gave him a small smile before turning to examine the boat controls. The key was still in the ignition switch.

She’d ridden on a boat like this once, a long, long time ago. Her own parents had rented one, just like the nice couple behind her had intended to do. She’d sat on her father’s lap, and he’d let her push the throttle. She could still remember the joy she’d felt as they’d zoomed across the water that day. The last day she ever saw her parents.

“Hey, stop!” the boat-owner yelled as she pushed the throttle all the way forward, the same way she’d done back then. He ran down the dock toward the boat, but it was already accelerating away.

She gasped as the boat took off at an alarming speed. She held the steering wheel nervously. She’d never even driven a car before. As if there was a chance the men would have let her.

A split second later, a loud bang resonated through the air, and Eddy screamed.

She let go of the wheel and turned around. The first thing she saw was Antonio standing on the edge of the dock and aiming his gun up at her.

“Eddy!” she screamed as she crouched down to examine him. He was crying, but to her relief, it seemed as though he was uninjured. He must have just been frightened by the loud noise. There was a small hole in the hull of the boat just a few inches away from him, and she shuddered at the thought that he’d come that close to being hit.

She peered back up over the edge of the boat. Antonio was just a small dot in the distance now, and growing smaller by the second.

“Just lie down for a little while, okay?” she crooned as she kissed the top of the boy’s head and gently eased him onto the floor of the boat. She wished now that she’d at least thought to bring a blanket or something for him. The weather was clear and hot right now, but it would start getting dark in just a few hours.

He did as she said without offering any resistance, and she felt a pang of frustration at how obedient he was. She’d seen other children his age on the beach before. They were always rowdy, running around and screaming and pitching fits when their parents tried to drag them away from their fun. Eddy wasn’t like that at all.

As she got back up to return to the helm, she told herself that it would be okay. Once they were somewhere safe, Eddy would have the chance to do all of those things, too. They just had to wait a little while longer.

For a few minutes, it didn’t seem real. It wasn’t until she looked back and realized that the entire island was nothing but a black spot in the distance that she allowed herself to relax, a bubble of broken laughter rising out of her.

She’d done it. She’d really done it. After years of suffering in that living hell, she’d finally escaped.

They were free.

2

Olivia

Special Agent Olivia Hastings sighed as she made her way down the long hallway, the heels of her shoes clicking against the linoleum flooring as she moved. As a senior agent for the Special Victims department of the FBI’s Miami Division, she was unfortunately all too familiar with these types of crimes. It never got any easier to deal with child victims, though. It was always extra heartbreaking when an innocent child suffered as a result of someone else’s actions, and Olivia was certain there was an especially painful place in Hell for the kind of people that hurt kids.

Once again, she’d been called in to assist in a case involving a child. What was peculiar about this case was that no one seemed to be sure exactly what kind of crime had been committed. Something had obviously happened since, according to the preliminary report she’d received, the boy had been found malnourished, filthy, and covered with burns. At best, it was a case of severe neglect, and at worst, well, Olivia supposed that it was up to her to find out.

The weather in Miramar, Florida, was both hot and humid that day, and Olivia found herself regretting the choice to wear a jacket that morning the moment she stepped outside. They were called the Miami division, but really they were located about half an hour north of the oceanside paradise most people envisioned when they pictured Miami. Miramar was far enough inland that they ended up with all the uncomfortable mugginess of Florida without any of the pretty scenery.

Weather like this always made her feel sluggish and grumpy, so she hurried across the parking lot to her car. She wasted no time in turning the AC on the moment she got inside, and she let out a sigh of relief as soon as the ice-cold air hit her.

She spent the drive over to the police station taking slow, calming breaths. She’d been doing this job for nearly a decade now, and she was damned good at it, but she’d have been lying if she’d said that the cases didn’t sometimes get to her. How could they not, when so many of them involved innocent, helpless, vulnerable people experiencing things no one should ever have to go through? It was important to