Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)

Sam slipped his revolver from its case clipped to his belt, then popped the trunk. Remi stood watch, ready to warn him if there was any movement. And though he hoped that they wouldn’t need any weapon, his instincts told him otherwise. There was only one vehicle seen on that roadway. If Bree wasn’t at the beach house, then she had to be in the SUV as it drove past. And, since they couldn’t see her, chances were good that she was either injured or dead.

They both turned their cell phones on vibrate. Remi kept hers in hand—just in case—and Sam shoved his into his pocket. Sam gave Remi his Smith & Wesson, then took a tire iron from the trunk. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

He peered around the corner. “Clear.”

The wind gusted as they walked to the dock just beyond the first warehouse, the only sounds their footsteps on the wooden planks and the cry of the gulls as the water lapped against the pilings.

There were no boats at the dock nor anyone working nearby. On closer inspection, the warehouses appeared abandoned, the windows broken, the doors padlocked shut from the outside.

The perfect place to take a kidnap victim, Sam thought as he and Remi made their way, keeping close to the side of the warehouse.

A faint sound caught his attention. He stopped, signaling for Remi to do the same. “Listen,” he whispered.

“Sort of a rusty, squeaking sound.”

He nodded toward the end of the warehouse they stood against. A gull cried out overhead, startling Remi as it dove down into the water just a few feet away.

Sam gave her a thumbs-up signal.

She nodded, then trailed him as he started forward again, following his lead as he ducked beneath a window to keep from being seen—on the chance someone was watching from within that particular warehouse. Unfortunately, the dock was long, and they didn’t know which warehouse they might have gone into.

When they reached the end of the building, Sam peered around the corner, saw the SUV parked between buildings. A door of the warehouse on the far side of the vehicle stood slightly ajar. He stepped back. “It’s there.”

“Anyone in it?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said. “The door is open on the next building. I’m taking a stab that’s where they are.”

Remi nodded, then glanced back in the direction they’d come, hoping to see the deputy’s car speeding their way. Sam didn’t bother mentioning that he was at least ten minutes behind them. They were on their own.

He watched the warehouse a few moments, wishing he had something beside a tire iron.

His gaze strayed to the SUV, realizing they’d only seen the two men in the front. No other passengers.

Sam motioned for Remi to stay put. He crouched down and moved over to the SUV, rising just enough to peer into the tinted back windows.

Bree was there on the floorboard, her hands bound behind her, a gag over her mouth, her feet tied.

He tapped on the window, relieved when she looked up at him. He put his finger to his lips to let her know that they weren’t going to leave her there.

Bree nodded, and Sam tried to open the vehicle’s door. Locked, of course. He gave her a smile of encouragement, then checked to make sure it was clear before returning to Remi. “She’s in the car.”

“Is she okay?”

“Tied-up, but appears okay,” Sam said. “We need to get a look into that warehouse first. Find out what we’re up against.”

They made their way to the warehouse near the open door.

Sam put his ear against the side of the building, but couldn’t hear anything. “What I wouldn’t give for that mirror from your purse right now.”

“For what?”

“To see inside that door without breaking cover.”

She held up her phone. “How about a camera lens?”

“As brilliant as you are beautiful.”