Page 74 of Grave Peril

Chapter 19

Rip stared into Almanza’s eyes, holding his attention, not daring to look at Lela. The assassin was arrogant, heady with power, and confident his victim was about to take his last breath. Rip locked on to the murderous gaze, seeing the soulless creature behind the empty eyes.

The blow to Alamanza’s head was hard and swift. Lela threw the fire extinguisher, knocking Rip’s executioner off balance. For a split second, the pressure of the knife against Rip’s throat relaxed just enough.

In a blur of action, Rip grabbed Almanza’s wrist and gave it a sharp twist, snapping the carpal bones. The knife dropped to the deck, accompanied by a cry of agony.

Rip clutched the assassin’s right forearm, holding it to his chest, and simultaneously wrapped his legs around the man’s right shin. With a grunt, Rip hefted Almanza’s body off his chest and rolled on top of him.

With a double punch to the face, Rip strived to knock out his opponent. But like an angry grizzly, the asshole emitted a primal growl and bucked, tossing Rip off his ribcage. Then he wrapped his one good hand around Rip’s ankle to turn it with enough force to shift him off and get free.

Almanza leapt to his feet and faced off with Rip. He danced around like a heavyweight boxer. The pain in his wrist didn’t appear to slow him down. He kicked, missing when Rip dodged.

“You screwed up, SEAL,” Almanza said. “I’m going to torture Lela, long and slow, before I kill her.”

Rip lunged at the murderer, head-butting into his chest. Almanza flew back and stepped on his own gun. His foot slipped and he lost balance. His knees crashed against the side of the boat.

Almanza fell over backward into the water, but his high-pitched yell was quickly silenced. Rip raced to the stern to look over. Blood swirled in the blue-white churn of water from the propeller. The gangster had done a back bend over the side, landing headfirst in the steel propeller.

Lela stood behind Rip. “Is he dead?”

“He’s gone.” Rip wrapped Lela in a tight embrace. “Almanza won’t be hurting anyone again.”

“I was so terrified.” Lela clung to him, her forehead against his chest. “He was the one, wasn’t he…Isabel’s murderer?”

The impact of what had occurred hadn’t fully sunk in. After all these years, the killer had emerged from his rat hole. And Rip had the retribution that he’d sought for so long. At the time of Isabel’s death, Almanza had been small fry. But he’d carved out his status within the cartel ranks, and had been killing ever since.

“At first, I didn’t recognize him,” Rip said. “He wasn’t that muscular, didn’t have the fancy tattoos.”

Lela looked into his eyes. “Rip…it’s over.” She pulled her arm away from his waist and sucked in a breath. “You’re bleeding. I have to get you to a hospital.”

The predator was dead, the cartel defeated. There was no reason not to seek medical care. God knew he was a wreck, unable to see out of one eye. Plus, he was leaking blood like a sieve.

*****

Rip had one arm around Lela’s shoulders. She couldn’t fully support his body weight, but assisted him to walk. He stepped off the boat, then she followed and resumed her position. He walked away from the pilotless craft, its engine still humming.

It had been a traumatic few hours, but Rip was renewed. An enormous burden had been lifted from his shoulders. The best thing was that Lela could go home and see her family, continue with her life. The danger had passed.

Rip walked down the pier to the main dock, weakened from the battle but inspired by the outcome. Pain pierced his side but he muffled a groan. The bleeding was under control. Lela had found some first-aid supplies and wrapped his abdomen.

The gunshots hadn’t alerted port security, as he’d anticipated. Rip would contact Travis and have him handle things, make the proper reports.

Rip and Lela stepped onto the main dock and came face to face with gun barrels. Several men pointed weapons, but only one had Rip’s attention.

The man in the middle didn’t hold a gun, which meant the others were his security. The leader wore a designer suit without a tie. The shirt was open at the neck, and tattoos covered his chest, neck, and face.

He sported a belt with a gold rectangular buckle, studded with emeralds. His shoes were alligator, and shone like a mirror. The gold rings and diamonds on his fingers gleamed in the sunlight. At a glance, Rip assessed that the tricked-out suit cashed out at about five grand. The jewelry had to be worth a small fortune.

“I’d like to invite you aboard my yacht.” The gangster was shorter than his cohorts, but his commanding presence indicated high rank within the cartel.

The invitation wasn’t stated as an offer; it was a command. Lela held tighter to Rip. “I have to get him to a doctor.”

The host’s eyes were devoid of emotion. “He won’t be needing one.”

Then the security detail escorted Rip and Lela to the destination, with the boss behind them. Not far up the dock was a superyacht. The monstrosity glowed white under the bright sun. It was multileveled and as large as a small cruise ship.

CERBERUSwas printed in black on the white paint. The lettering was underneath a graphic design of a three-headed dog with the claws of a lion, a mane of snakes, and serpent’s tail. It was Cerberus, the guard dog of Hades.

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