PREDATOR ISLAND (Sea Lab Book 2)

CHAPTER 46

A wave of adrenaline coursed through Jake's body as Dr. Graham jammed the little pistol into Rachel's temple. A few seconds ago they'd discovered a hoard of treasure chests overflowing with gold coins, gold crosses, a collection of gold amulets clutching emeralds, rubies, and sapphires, and even a stash of silver coins. The only thing missing from the collection were diamonds. The emotional jitters of discovering such a find became evident in everyone's eyes and faces as they realized they'd found the treasure of the British Naval officer turned pirate, Captain Bennett Graham. After all they'd been through to get here, the excitement flowed around the room like a wildfire of gladness. But even before the doctor ruined their celebration, deep down, Jake knew their journey into the cave would pale in comparison to their journey out. Especially now, with the great-great-great-whatever grandson of the infamous pirate, Dr. Hugh Graham, edging deeper into the lower room, his snub-nosed pistol sliding underneath Rachel's chin.

Rachel held the flashlight against her chest, pointed up, highlighting her petrified face, distorted with fear. Her eyes glanced down to where the gun barrel depressed into her skin, but Jake knew she couldn't see it from her perspective. But now, in the glow of her flashlight, he could see the little gun was a revolver. That tiny revelation meant that reloading the gun would be more difficult than inserting a fresh magazine. Graham would have to load each bullet one at a time. Not that that helped them in their present situation, but it might come into play later.

The doctor glared at them as if they'd done him wrong in some mind-bending way. Like they'd been the ones to create the giant cat and send it chasing after him. Like they were to blame for it all. But that did raise one question...had Graham killed the predator and at least got rid of one of their problems with surviving the island? Probably not. They couldn't be that fortunate. By his appearance, it looked like the cat got the best of him, not the other way around.

Jake's gaze fell on the gun. The compact overall length, short grip, and thickness of the barrel made him believe it was a .38 caliber. It likely held five or six rounds. He wasn't a gun expert, but he'd owned a few over the years and knew how to use them. On the deck of a sinking ship, he'd shot Roland Zanderthal in the legs at close range to slow him down, but the CEO of Ocean Blue—with his serum induced strength and rapid healing—shook off the wounds like he'd been stung by a pair of angry hornets. The doctor was no Zanderthal.

If he remembered correctly, Graham had already fired two shots. That would leave him three or four bullets left, unless he'd reloaded at some point. Regardless of the fact, they were at an extreme disadvantage.

Graham ordered everyone to move to the back of the room where he'd have them cornered, as well as have the treasure between them as an additional barrier. But for leverage, he kept Rachel close to him. After taking the flashlight, he released her so he could maneuver and make his play.

With the gun aimed at her from a few feet away, Rachel backed up against the side wall of the chamber.

Dr. Graham kept the revolver trained on her as he scooted over near the stairwell that led up to the floor above. He stopped at the entrance and reached into the dark passage.

Out of nowhere, he whipped out a shotgun.

Everyone gasped.

Graham grinned as he knelt and returned his little pistol to the ankle holster.

"So nice to see all of you again," he said. "Thank you for going to so much trouble for me, doing my legwork." He glanced at Jake and held his gaze. "Like my shotgun?"

"Looks like a classic."

"It's an English made, twelve gauge H. Beesley boxlock ejector with twin triggers. Handed down from my father. Packs quite a punch."