Long Gone Read Online Free PDF Page A

open his door. He shot out of the car, desperate to stop the thugs from taking her anywhere. Instinct warned him that there wasn’t a moment to lose. He could hear his father following closely behind, whispering for him to slow down, as he crouched his way through the trailered boats.  
    The van had backed right up to the pier, adjacent to a huge yacht. Weak sunlight buttered the yacht’s sleek curves as it swayed gently at its moorings.
    From their hiding spot, Drake and Connor watched as the tallest of the three goons carried Skyler from the van while his cronies went to work changing the flat tire. 
    Even unconscious, with her hair tinted auburn, she looked like an angel—an angel in pink, plaid pajamas. Drake’s lungs expanded at the sight of her.
    As they approached the yacht, a thick-set gentleman with receding hair stepped out from under the awning on the main deck. His casually chic clothing screamed money, as did his aristocratic accent when he spoke.
    “There you are. Step aboard,” he called out.
    “Holy hell, is that who I think it is?” Connor’s whispered words reflected astonishment. 
    Drake took a closer look, recognition exploding in his mind. “Ashton Jameson,” he breathed, recalling that the man had once been Skyler’s fiancé. Connor had worked like hell to implicate him in racketeering, but there’d been a frustrating scarcity of evidence.
    Clearly Jameson wanted to punish Skyler for betraying him. The tall man carried his victim on board, and Jameson gloated down at her. “Bring her in,” he said, turning toward the expansive-looking cabin. Drake’s gut knotted as they disappeared behind sliding glass doors.
    “What do you want to do?” Connor asked.
    Drake eyed him in surprise. Was his father really asking him to call the shots? “We wait for the three stooges to leave,” he decided. “Then we go after her.”
    Connor nodded. “Okay.” 
    Drake narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? You’re not going to pull rank or call in the U.S. Marshals?”
    Connor avoided eye contact. “I don’t think they’d get here in time, do you?”
    Drake didn’t want to think about Jameson’s immediate plans. “No.” He looked back at the yacht. Every muscle in his body spurred him to rescue Skyler now .   
    At last, the tall man reemerged, stuffing money into his rear pocket. Stepping off the yacht, he hurried back to his accomplices who were tightening the lug nuts on their spare. Drake counted the seconds until the van finally drove off.
    As it disappeared, Jameson emerged from the cabin long enough to shout up at the pilot house. “Take us home, boys.”
    “Shit,” Drake muttered as two lanky men in uniform sprang into view on the uppermost deck.
    With an “Aye, aye, sir,” they descended the myriad steps to prepare the yacht for launch. Jameson ducked back into the cabin, shutting the glass door behind him.
    “Three against two,” Connor muttered. “You know, if you maim or kill anyone, you can kiss your career good-bye.”
    Drake rolled his eyes in disgust. “We’re not going to kill anyone. Just trust me and follow my lead.”
    With an overblown gesture, Connor signaled for Drake to lead the way.
    Together they crossed the gravel yard toward the pier. The deckhands took note of their approach, glanced at each other, and stopped untying the yacht from its moorings.
    “Morning,” Drake called, stepping up to the Julius Caesar with outward confidence. Of course, Jameson would give his boat such a pompous-ass name . “I hope I’m not late.”
    The men frowned at him. “Late for what?” one of them demanded.
    Drake shot him a look of feigned exasperation. “Mr. Jameson didn’t tell you? Must have slipped his mind. I’m Tom Keane,” he introduced himself, “with U.S.A. Yacht Sales.” He fished a business card from his wallet. “He asked me to stop by this morning and appraise the value of his yacht.” Traversing the gang plank he handed one of the deckhands his