George took off without another word, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. “I’ll take care of him. You take care of Mary!”
Bert wanted to go after Frank, wanted to make the man pay for every bruise on Mary’s body, for every mark on her throat, for the fear he’d put in her eyes. But he couldn’t leave her. Wouldn’t leave her.
Mary’s hand found his, her grip surprisingly strong. She looked at him, and despite the pain clearly etched on her face, her eyes were fierce. She shook her head and mouthed, “Go.”
“No,” Bert said immediately. “I’m not leaving you.”
The ship’s doctor and nurse stopped at the closet’s doorway. “Let us take her to the clinic,” the doctor said.
Mary squeezed Bert’s hand harder, wincing with the effort. Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and damaged. “Others can take care of me. You go. Get him. Make him pay... for Diane. For Colin.”
“Mary—”
“Please.” The word came out broken, desperate. “He can’t... get away. You go.”
Bert wanted to refuse. Every instinct screamed at him to stay with Mary, to make sure she got proper medical attention, to be there while the doctor examined her and cataloged every injury Frank had inflicted. But he saw the fierce determination in her eyes and the absolute certainty that this was what she needed him to do.
And Bert understood. This wasn’t about revenge. This was about making sure Frank faced consequences for everything he’d done. A man like that couldn’t be allowed to escape and hurt someone else.
Bert leaned down and kissed her forehead, feather-light, reverent. “I’ll go. But only to make him pay for what he did to you.”
Mary managed a lopsided grin that must have cost her, pain flickering across her face. “By the way... I broke his finger and punched him in the balls.”
Despite everything, despite the fear and rage and horror, Bert felt a fierce surge of pride. “That’s my girl.”
The doctor immediately began issuing orders while the nurse pulled out medical equipment from the bag she carried.
Mary nodded to Bert, her eyes saying what he needed to do. Go. I’m safe now. Finish this.
Bert kissed her once more, quick and desperate, then forced himself to stand and move away. Each step felt like tearing away a piece of his heart, but he kept moving. Out of the closet, down the corridor, following the instinct that told him exactly where Frank would go.
The hangar area. It was the only place on Level A where Frank could safely exit the ship, even if he couldn’t launch one of the tender boats. The large bay doors that opened to allow passengers to board tenders when they were anchored offshore were designed to open even in rough seas, and a desperate man might be able to squeeze through the gap and drop into the water below.
Bert sprinted through the service corridors, his mind mapping the ship’s layout from the diagrams he’d studied when they first boarded. The hangar was at the stern, a large open area that would be relatively empty this time of night with the storm raging outside.
He burst through the door into the hangar and immediately spotted Frank.
The man was at the far end of the space, working frantically at the controls for the bay doors. His face was a mess with deep scratches and streaming blood, one eye swollen nearly shut. He held his left hand against his stomach, and even from this distance, Bert could see his pinkie hung at an unnatural angle.
Mary had done that. Had fought like hell and left her mark on her attacker.
“Frank Marcone!” Bert’s voice echoed through the hangar, hard and commanding. “Step away from the controls. Now.”
Frank spun around, and even from across the hangar, Bert could see the desperation and rage warring on his damaged face. “You can’t stop me. I’m getting off this ship, and no one?—”
“You’re not going anywhere except a Canadian prison,” Bert said, advancing slowly, his body coiled and ready, wishing he had his firearm with him. “The Royal Canadian Mounted Police are already on their way to board this ship.”
Frank’s cackle was bitter and slightly unhinged. “You think I’m just going to surrender? After everything I’ve done and everything I’ve worked for? I’d rather take my chances in the water.”
He turned back to the controls, his damaged hand fumbling with the buttons. The bay doors began to slide open with hydraulic smoothness, revealing the storm-tossed waters beyond. Rain lashed in through the opening, wind howling, and Bert could see the lights of the harbor close enough that if Frank was strong, he might be able to swim that far. Not very probable, but possible.
Frank moved toward the opening, clearly intending to jump, and Bert launched himself forward.
Bert crossed the distance in seconds, hurdling over some of the equipment stacked on the floor and now in his way. With a last flying leap, he launched forward, his body slamming against Frank. They went down hard on the metal decking, Frank fighting with the desperate strength of someone who had nothing left to lose.
They rolled precariously close to the opening, and Bert forced them to stop before they both tumbled into the river.
Frank was injured, exhausted, and fighting someone who had every reason to make him pay for hurting the woman he loved. Bert pinned him efficiently, twisting Frank’s arms behind his back with enough force to make the man cry out in pain.