Scorpion Strike. John Gilstrap

took his phone and pushed the button to bring it to life. “Yup. We need reinforcements.”

      CHAPTER 7

      BACK WHEN SHE WAS A TEENAGER, VENICE ALEXANDER HAD DECIDED in a pique of adolescent self-importance that her name was too boring. Her mother, now known to everyone in Fisherman’s Cove simply as Mama, had been named Florence by her mother, Roma. When she had a daughter of her own, she insisted on perpetuating the generations-old tradition of humiliating children with names drawn from Italian tourist destinations. So, Venice decided to elevate her name with a more exotic pronunciation. From then on, her name was pronounced Ven-EE-chay. Everybody got it wrong on the first try, but that fact made for a great trap to filter out telemarketers.

      The single mom of a thirteen-year-old boy—Roman, and yes, he hated his name, too—she’d been a part of Jonathan’s life for as long as she could remember, back to the days when she was a little girl with a crush. She’d grown up in the mansion she now called home, on the grounds of what was now Resurrection House, a charitable home for the children of incarcerated parents. Back then, though, she lived in the basement with Mama, who was the full-time housekeeper for the Gravenow family, whose only child was the boy named Jonathan. Venice was never sure why Jonathan changed his name, but she suspected that it had much to do with the fact that his father was a notorious criminal.

      Venice was thrilled that Jonathan and Gail had finally carved out time to be together. Their absence tripled the amount of work she had to balance at Security Solutions, but if it could bring happiness to Jonathan, and restore some of the confidence that had been beaten out of Gail in that terrible attack a while back, then the extra effort would be worth it.

      Besides, it never hurt for the boss to feel as if he owed you a favor.

      She’d had trouble sleeping tonight, and she couldn’t determine why. The day hadn’t been especially stressful, she’d had ample time to spend with Roman, and even the boy’s adolescent angst seemed to be tamed for the moment.

      It didn’t help that JoeDog had chosen Venice’s bed as her own this evening. The black Lab lay sprawled sideways, as she was wont to do, but Venice was something of a coffin sleeper and still had adequate room. She didn’t even mind the dog’s snoring, though the flatulence could be eye watering.

      Because she’d been thinking so intently about Jonathan, it did not surprise her when her phone rang and it was him.

      “It’s awfully late there, isn’t it?” she asked as she connected the call.

      “The island has been invaded,” Jonathan said.

      Venice had been expecting a sharp retort, but she didn’t understand the humor in this one. “Which island is being invaded?”

      “Ours. The Crystal Sands Resort.”

      “‘Is being invaded.’ ” Saying it again did not make it more sensible. “What does that mean?”

      “It means that a whole bunch of bad guys have invaded the resort and taken hostages.”

      Venice sat up in bed, causing JoeDog to open an eye and then close it again. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

      “As a heart attack.”

      Her head raced nearly as fast as her heart as she tried to make pieces fit. While she hadn’t slept, she realized that she wasn’t fully awake, either. “So, you and Gail are hostages?”

      “Not in the active sense,” Jonathan said. She could hear the irritation growing in his tone. He was tired of the warm-up conversation, and wanted to get to something meatier. “Some guys with guns came to our bungalow and tried to take us, but it didn’t go well for them. We got away, but there’s only so far to go when you’re on a friggin’ island.”

      “Well . . .” She had nothing. “Did you call the police?”

      “It’s an island, Mother Hen. And it’s private. Shit, I don’t even know what its nationality is. That’s why I’m calling you.”

      His use of her code name told her that he was in the presence of others. “It’s not just you and Gunslinger, is it?” Code name for code name.

      “No, it’s not. We picked up a few strays. Gunslinger and I have guns and we have access to the bad guys’ coms, but these aren’t your average terrorists. They appear to have training. And heart.”

      “Islamic?”

      “Blond hair,” Jonathan said. “Take from that what you wish. We got everything from the dead guys’ pockets, but we haven’t had a chance to go through it all yet. This whole incident isn’t yet two hours old.”

      Venice felt the friction in her brain gears reduce. She was waking up, and a task list was beginning to take shape.

      “Are you in a safe place?”

      “For now, I think so, but they’re gonna come searching for us. Certainly by daybreak, and it would be nice to have some kind of a plan by then. A shadow of a plan will do.”

      “I’ll go to work on it,” Venice said. As she rolled fully out of bed, JoeDog was wide-awake and looked uneasy. She seemed to know that her best friend was in trouble. “How do you want to stay in contact?”

      “For now,” Jonathan said, “wait for my calls. I don’t know how long this will go on, and I don’t know how much access we’ll have to power. I’m going to keep the phones off when we’re not talking.”

      Venice felt like she needed to say something encouraging, but she didn’t know what that might be.

      “I’m hanging up now,” Jonathan said. “I know you won’t let us down. You never do.”

      After the click, Venice stared at the phone until the dial tone returned, and for a while longer after she’d disconnected. Jonathan’s voice carried a tone that she’d rarely heard in the past. He didn’t sound scared, exactly, but something close to it. Rattled, maybe. He needed a plan. He needed resources.

      He needed help. Quickly. At four in the morning.

      She dressed quickly. No shower, no makeup. That could all come later. She had to get to work. JoeDog, for her part, seemed delighted to have something to do, and walked circles around Venice’s legs, threatening to trip her.

      “Do you know this is about your friend Jonathan?” she asked. She’d heard that dogs had sixth senses about their masters, and it was rare to see this much agitation out of JoeDog.

      Venice pulled on a sweater over her jeans and slipped her bare feet into a pair of black flats. It was an outfit that she’d never wear to the office, but that was exactly where she was going, and this was an emergency.

      She opened her bedroom door onto the sitting area of the master suite, padded across the inlaid hardwoods and Persian rug, and opened the massive double doors into the expansive second-floor hallway. Every time she walked these halls, she couldn’t shake a sense of guilt that this was where she and Mama had ended up, given where they’d started. But Jonathan wouldn’t have it any other way. When he’d deeded the family manse to Saint Katherine’s Catholic Church for a dollar, his one condition was that Mama and Venice would always have a home there, and that the structure would be used as the headquarters for Rez House.

      Early on, the mansion was the entire school, from classrooms to dormitories. Over the years, it had expanded to separate classroom and dorm buildings, leaving the mansion primarily as an administrative building.

      JoeDog led the way down the stairs and across the foyer, drawing the attention of Oscar Thompkins, the head of the nighttime security team. After some violence a while back, a permanent security presence had become a necessity. He had one counterpart patrolling the dormitory building and another patrolling the grounds.

      “Evening, Ms. Alexander,” Oscar said. “A little late for a stroll, ain’t it?”

      “Something came