Great.
“How much did those idiots give her?” Footsteps. “Call me when she wakes up.”
“Aye, sir.”
The door closed.
A moment later, the guard was there again. “Here’s water.”
She drank, slaked her thirst. “Thank you. Where’s Quinn?”
“Shh!” The guard glared at her. “I cannae say where he is, but he’s no’ here, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. They only took you. They want somethin’ from him.”
The phone.
There was no way they’d get their hands on that, but she didn’t say so. Right now, that phone was likely the only reason she was still alive.
* * *
Quinn lookedout over the dark water as they made their way in a small cargo ship up the Clyde estuary. The sun had just set, the Cobra team still over the Atlantic somewhere.
Hang on, Lilibet. I’m comin’.
So far, Grant had been true to his word. He’d outfitted Quinn with body armor and given him an M4 rifle and ammo.
Quinn had turned the M4 over in his hands, racked the charging handle. “How the bloody hell did you get somethin’ like this?”
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.” Grant had laughed at his own joke.
It was like going on a mission with Cobra—except that everyone on board this ship, apart from him, was a hardened criminal or a terrorist or both.
Quinn’s plan was to dock not far from the location where that fucking bastard had taken her and then move in under cover of darkness in the shadow of the riverbank. Grant’s man on the inside would unlock the gate to let them in. Grant and his men would take the warehouse while Quinn went after Elizabeth.
Grant wanted only vengeance.
Quinn was happy to let him have it. It had gutted him to hear who was behind all of this, left him feeling sick. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that now.
“Gather your men.” Quinn said to Grant. “I’d like to have a final word.”
Grant pulled his men together behind the ship’s wheelhouse. “All right, you bastards. Listen to what our friend has to say.”
Quinn outlined the plan one more time then focused on important details. “The rounds in your weapons can penetrate walls. Be sure you know who’s on the other side afore you start sprayin’ bullets. Make your shots count. When a target is neutralized, leave him. Dinnae waste precious time takin’ souvenirs.”
This drew snickers.
“Listen!” Grant bellowed.
“The moment this bastard hears the first shot, he’ll likely move to kill his prisoner, so dinnae be pullin’ that trigger afore we’re inside and there’s a true need. If you can take a target down wi’ a blade or the blow of a rifle butt, do it. Dinnae panic and start shootin’ every bastard you see. You’ll only kill each other that way.”
When Elizabeth was in Quinn’s hands, the two of them would get on another boat and sail up the Clyde, leaving the bastard and his men to Grant. Quinn would take Elizabeth back to the Fortress. The two of them would hopefully be ready to leave the country by the time Cobra’s private jet touched down.
None of this was legal, of course, but Quinn would rather spend the next twenty years in prison than let anyone harm or kill Elizabeth.
The fucker had sent him two more text messages. He was using a burner now, not Elizabeth’s phone. He’d given Quinn till tomorrow morning at oh-six-hundred to bring Jack’s mobile to a location in Glasgow. Then he’d promised to let Quinn and Elizabeth go. But Quinn knew better.
The son of a bitch planned to take the phone and kill them both.
Quinn had pretended not to know who was on the other end and had agreed to bring the phone with him, making a few threats of his own.