CHAPTER 5
“I just had the most amusing thought. Do you want to hear it?”
Jeremiah glared at the smiling Lucas, but the gunrunner didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. The grin on his face was stretched almost garishly wide, teeth shining white in the dim light, as he stared at his larger brother. “The last time we were in this exact same predicament, our positions were reversed. Didn’t you have the gun pointed at me , little brother?”
“Loki...”
“Oh yes, I remember! You said I had to give you a good reason why not to kill me.” Lucas cleared his throat dramatically, the gun not wavering a bit. “So, dear brother, it’s your turn. Why shouldn’t I kill you?”
“For me,” I blurted out, trying to move around to the front. Jeremiah however shifted to keep himself between myself and the gun, effectively blocking my path. His response annoyed me, but I persisted. “Lucas, please.”
Jeremiah glanced back at me, and missed the brief disappointment that flashed across his scarred brother’s face. It disappeared almost immediately, hidden by that manic smile as if it never existed. “She said ‘please’,” he murmured conspiratorially, and for a moment I thought for sure he would tell Jeremiah about what had happened in that room only hours before.
“However, unlike my brother,” Lucas continued, lifting the gun to his shoulder, “I won’t actually shoot family.”
Jeremiah stepped forward the moment the gun moved toward the ceiling. I couldn’t even call what he did grappling; like magic, he tore the gun from Lucas’ hand, slammed the man against the opposite wall and turned the gun on him.
“My men however,” Lucas continued quickly, grunting at the effort of speaking with a compressed rib cage, “have a rocket propelled grenade aimed at your ship and if I don’t call them off in ten seconds they shoot.” He held up a radio in one hand. “Nine.”
“Call them off.”
“Ah.” Lucas glanced at the gun shoved in his face. “No. Threats like this tend to turn me into a rebel. Sorry.”
“Lucas...”
“Why yes, that’s my name, and you know I don’t bluff. Six.”
I stepped forward and grabbed Jeremiah’s elbow. “I’m fine, Jeremiah,” I said, a little desperate. “Let him go.”
The big man looked at me, eyes blazing, then back at his brother who held up a hand showing four fingers. Cursing, he released Lucas, lowering the gun, and immediately the gunrunner lifted the radio to his lips. “Give me another thirty seconds, and stay on them if they move.”
“Yes sir.”
Lucas lowered the radio. “Call your men off my ship, Jeremiah.”
The two were standing nose to nose in a battle of wills. Jeremiah’s hands worked at his side, clenching and unclenching like he fantasized of wringing his brother’s neck. Lucas seemed unfazed by the posturing, but a thick muscle in his cheek gave away his own tension. Seconds past, and I was ready to start wringing some necks myself when Jeremiah lifted a hand to his ear. “Pull out.” He paused. “I’m staying here. Pull back to the boat.”
I sighed loudly in relief, but neither man broke their stares. Figures appeared through the doorway, and I recognize Kolya and several others. They leveled their guns at Jeremiah as Lucas spoke into the radio again. “Let the ship go.”
There was a significant pause, then another, “ Yes sir. ”
“Strip him of his weapons and gear,” Lucas said, “then take him downstairs. Don’t take any shots at him, he holds grudges and doesn’t play fair when he gets payback.”
One of the men tried to grab Jeremiah’s arm but the black-clad commando slipped easily from his grasp. He didn’t protest however as they removed the assault rifle and sidearm, then looked at me. “Are you really okay?”
A lump formed in my throat at his simple question and the myriad complexities that came with it. “Yes,” I whispered, a queasy churning starting in my gut. Then, without any warning,
“I just had the most amusing thought. Do you want to hear it?”
Jeremiah glared at the smiling Lucas, but the gunrunner didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. The grin on his face was stretched almost garishly wide, teeth shining white in the dim light, as he stared at his larger brother. “The last time we were in this exact same predicament, our positions were reversed. Didn’t you have the gun pointed at me , little brother?”
“Loki...”
“Oh yes, I remember! You said I had to give you a good reason why not to kill me.” Lucas cleared his throat dramatically, the gun not wavering a bit. “So, dear brother, it’s your turn. Why shouldn’t I kill you?”
“For me,” I blurted out, trying to move around to the front. Jeremiah however shifted to keep himself between myself and the gun, effectively blocking my path. His response annoyed me, but I persisted. “Lucas, please.”
Jeremiah glanced back at me, and missed the brief disappointment that flashed across his scarred brother’s face. It disappeared almost immediately, hidden by that manic smile as if it never existed. “She said ‘please’,” he murmured conspiratorially, and for a moment I thought for sure he would tell Jeremiah about what had happened in that room only hours before.
“However, unlike my brother,” Lucas continued, lifting the gun to his shoulder, “I won’t actually shoot family.”
Jeremiah stepped forward the moment the gun moved toward the ceiling. I couldn’t even call what he did grappling; like magic, he tore the gun from Lucas’ hand, slammed the man against the opposite wall and turned the gun on him.
“My men however,” Lucas continued quickly, grunting at the effort of speaking with a compressed rib cage, “have a rocket propelled grenade aimed at your ship and if I don’t call them off in ten seconds they shoot.” He held up a radio in one hand. “Nine.”
“Call them off.”
“Ah.” Lucas glanced at the gun shoved in his face. “No. Threats like this tend to turn me into a rebel. Sorry.”
“Lucas...”
“Why yes, that’s my name, and you know I don’t bluff. Six.”
I stepped forward and grabbed Jeremiah’s elbow. “I’m fine, Jeremiah,” I said, a little desperate. “Let him go.”
The big man looked at me, eyes blazing, then back at his brother who held up a hand showing four fingers. Cursing, he released Lucas, lowering the gun, and immediately the gunrunner lifted the radio to his lips. “Give me another thirty seconds, and stay on them if they move.”
“Yes sir.”
Lucas lowered the radio. “Call your men off my ship, Jeremiah.”
The two were standing nose to nose in a battle of wills. Jeremiah’s hands worked at his side, clenching and unclenching like he fantasized of wringing his brother’s neck. Lucas seemed unfazed by the posturing, but a thick muscle in his cheek gave away his own tension. Seconds past, and I was ready to start wringing some necks myself when Jeremiah lifted a hand to his ear. “Pull out.” He paused. “I’m staying here. Pull back to the boat.”
I sighed loudly in relief, but neither man broke their stares. Figures appeared through the doorway, and I recognize Kolya and several others. They leveled their guns at Jeremiah as Lucas spoke into the radio again. “Let the ship go.”
There was a significant pause, then another, “ Yes sir. ”
“Strip him of his weapons and gear,” Lucas said, “then take him downstairs. Don’t take any shots at him, he holds grudges and doesn’t play fair when he gets payback.”
One of the men tried to grab Jeremiah’s arm but the black-clad commando slipped easily from his grasp. He didn’t protest however as they removed the assault rifle and sidearm, then looked at me. “Are you really okay?”
A lump formed in my throat at his simple question and the myriad complexities that came with it. “Yes,” I whispered, a queasy churning starting in my gut. Then, without any warning,
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