PREDATOR ISLAND (Sea Lab Book 2)

CHAPTER 34 (New Chapter Added to Story)

With the sleek white yacht floating next to the Midnight Sun, the female pirate tied the two vessels together, bow and stern, and then hopped over the starboard railing onto the sun deck. As she joined her husband, her male counter held Marlon at gunpoint on the port side. She wore cutoff shorts and an airy orange blouse with beads lining the sleeves and ruffling in the wind on the bottom hem. Her hazel eyes contrasted with her bronze skin, but in the shadow of her frizzy hair, they appeared darker. The man's black hair was undercut by a thick shade of whiskers. They wore matching rings which meant nothing. It may have been a charade, a ruse to get people like Dylan and Savannah to trust them? It didn't matter at this point, but Marlon and his experience on the sea would have saw right through their desperate-to-survive and build-a-family routine. He would've seen them for the hardened criminals that they were, from the start.

That's why he should've accompanied the writer and photographer when they met the couple in Hawaii on a chance encounter. But Dylan and Savannah were out for dinner after finishing up the cover story on Oahu. They needed shore leave, and Marlon obliged them. Hopefully, Tom Logan would see it that way when all of this made its way back to him at the end of the day. And hopefully, Marlon would be alive to plead his case as to why he allowed pirates to get close to the yacht and within reach of Logan's daughter.

The woman roamed in circles around Marlon, grinning smugly at him with a gun of her own tucked in the waistband of her blue jean shorts. She hid her fingers in the pockets as her eyes lingered over him in a taunting manner. The pirate couple had the upper hand and she knew it.

The man nodded to her. "You mind holding my gun on him while I rough him up a bit?"

"Not at all." She took the weapon and aimed the muzzle at Marlon, a few steps away, maintaining a side view from a safe distance.

"You're going to tell us what we want to know, and the quicker you do it, the less pain I'll have to inflict. Understood?"

Marlon stood with his hands raised, glaring at the man. Occasionally, his gaze drifted over to the gun, assessing his chances of rectifying the situation. "Perfectly."

"So, what do you know?"

"Nothing."

"Wrong answer." The man swung faster than expected, and harder. The punch hit Marlon's chin with enough force to whip his body around and send him to the deck. "I can do this all day, but I don't have that much time. So I must insist that you hurry up and start talking."

The man jerked Marlon up by the collar and brought him to his knees. He nodded to the woman. She stepped forward and planted the barrel of the gun to his forehead.

"You were saying?" the man said. "Choose your words carefully."

"They went to the island, but I assume you already know that."

The woman backed away and another punch blasted into Marlon's nose, crushing cartilage and drawing a heavy spray of blood.

Marlon fell backward, his hands clutching his face.

"You don't get any points for common knowledge. Just pain."

The woman snatched Marlon by the back of the head and lifted him to his knees again. The entire time, she mashed the muzzle into his cheek, which was smeared with blood. Quickly, she backed away with that same smug look on her face. She liked power, and watching her man deal out a heavy dose of pain. It probably made her feel strong. Gave her a sense of control.

"Anything else you'd like to say?"

"They're looking for the gold." Marlon spat blood on the deck.

The man scrunched up one of side of his face into a mean grimace. "Stand him up."

With the woman's help, Marlon struggled to his feet.

"I appreciate the honesty," the man said, "but again...no points for telling me something I already know."

He coiled his arm back and smashed his fist into Marlon's stomach with a forceful grunt.

Marlon bowed over at the waist, reeling. The epicenter of breath-stealing pain radiated out from the impact point of the blow. He gasped, wheezing to fill his lungs with the air that vacated his body.

"I'm growing tired of this," the man said. He grabbed Marlon by the hair and raised his chin to look at him. Then he smiled slyly. "Maybe I don't need you to talk?"

"The drone?" the woman replied.

"Right. I saw it with the binoculars from a distance, before we made our approach. It's not in the parlor, already checked. Look in the bridge."

The woman handed the man's gun back to him and hustled up the port side stairway like she knew her way around any boat. A few minutes later, she returned with the three-bladed drone and the remote control. Marlon stood as firm as he could, having recovered from the punch to the gut. He winced and glanced away in defeat as he realized what they were doing.

While the man held the gun on Marlon, she rewound the footage and replayed the drone's flight from the yacht, across the island and to the river where Dylan and Savannah were, along with the Sea Lab team. Unfortunately, the video contained audio too.

"Who are the people with them?" the woman asked. "We didn't meet them at the restaurant."

"Sea Lab scientists." Marlon felt there was little harm in the answer.

"For some reason, I believe you," the man replied.

The woman whipped out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket which turned out to be a map. She opened it up and traced her finger across the page. Looked up at her husband and nodded. "If you follow the flight of the drone from this boat to the river, that brings us about here." She jabbed a finger at a spot on the map.

Marlon couldn't see where she pointed, but he figured she was close to Dylan and Savannah's actual location. And he was a little disgusted they referred to this pristine vessel as a mere boat.

"From that point," she continued, "heading southwest as the audio from the replay suggested, it leads us directly to a very prominent feature on the map." She looked at Marlon. "Nice that your drone recorded your radio conversation reminding us of one of the clues on the old map and the potential location of their next destination."

"Cerro Yglesia." The man's eyes lit up. "I remember the map and the clues, especially the one about the mouth swallowing the mist that clouds the way." He grinned and kissed her for a few sickening moments.

As they locked lips, Marlon began plotting his escape. His options were few, but if he survived, he could warn Dylan and Savannah that the pirates were coming for them.

Slowly, as they kissed, he eased backward toward the port side of the Midnight Sun, the side facing the island. With the yachts tied together on starboard, the port side was closer and seemed like his best bet to come out of this alive.

His lower back hit the rail, bringing him to a stop.

"So, do we take his boat?" the woman said.

"We don't have time now. We'll come back for it once we secure the treasure. First, we buzz over to the southwest side of the island, closest to Cerro Yglesia."

She bit her lip. "What do we do with him?"

"Kill him, of course." The man raised the gun and fired at chest level. Marlon spun just before impact, but still, the bullet struck him high and to his left side below the shoulder. His body whirled and launched out over the railing, plunging him into the shark infested waters of the South Pacific, where he sank beneath the surface in a cloud of his own blood.