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Even in the dim light as the moon rose over the ocean and the stars prickled overhead, she could make him out.A very wet, very fierce, very grim-faced Steinbeck.And then he smiled.“I thought that was you.”
The smile had the effect of the flare gun, a spark, and light exploding through her entire body.What?Aw, no,no!
“Shoot,” she said.“I thought you didn’t see me.”
“You’re very hard to miss,” he said, his gaze raking over her and then the flare.“So what’s your plan there, Sparky?”
“Distraction, then I get into the salon, take out a couple of the Russians, and hustle everyone onto the Russians’ boat before the others can get down from the bridge.”
He made a face of approval.“Not bad.I think I could help with that, but I need a sitrep first.”
“A sitrep?”How had he even gotten back onto the boat?“How are you evenhere?”
“It took me a little bit to realize that was you, but I knew wherever you were, there was trouble.”
And then he smiled again.
Stop smiling.Stop smiling!“All right, I’ll tell you on the way.”She scrambled back up the bow, through the door, and down into the galley, Steinbeck on her tail.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to get you a gun.”
“I love it when you talk that way.”
Oh.She had no hope of getting off this boat unscathed.
* * *
Next time she got taken hostage, Austen was definitely not wearing a swimsuit.Because whereas the sun had baked her skin and settled her into a comfortable, relaxing morning, the chill of the AC in the salon turned her bones brittle and sharp.And sure, she was deflecting, because that seemed easier than focusing on the two thugs carrying lethal-looking machine guns.Or on the fact that Declan sat beside her holding a towel to his nose, his expression brutal and not a little angry.Hunter wore the same look, and he kept exchanging glances with Declan as if they were in cahoots, ready to overpower the thugs.
Worse, Steinbeck’s word kept circling back.“Criminal.”
Clearly, she didn’t know Declan as well as she’d thought she did.Because she’d heard the thugs talking to Declan, asking where he’d stashed something.And that’s what criminals did, right?They took things and hid them from others.
No,no, that wasn’t right.Declan was a good man.But something just didn’t feel right in her gut, and she hated to think that it was Steinbeck’s voice latching on and speaking truth.
She wasn’t going there.Right now, all Austen cared about was surviving.And maybe going to the bathroom, because it had been a couple hours now, and she’d had a lot of lemon water thanks to her dehydration yesterday.
“Um,” she said into the quiet of the room, “is there any way I could use the ladies’ room?”
One of the thugs looked over at her and frowned.
“Me too,” Elise said.She glanced at Austen and gave her a quick smile.Solidarity.
“There’s a bathroom just off the salon,” Declan said, lowering the towel from his nose.The blood had stopped.He pointed.“And another down the hall in the stateroom.”
One of the men rose, nodded toward the hallway, and pointed at Austen.“Make it fast.”
He didn’t follow her, but where was she going to go anyway?They’d taken Captain Teresa up to the pilothouse—two of the other thugs had disappeared with her.Another man stood by the stern, guarding their boat.Not a big boat—seemed the same size as her trawler, but rusted and beaten by the waves.Maybe they’d taken out some fishermen to steal it.
Darkness had found its way into her brain even as night fell around them.Blackness filled the portholes, the moon glistening on the water.She moved down the hallway, past the dining-room table, and into one of the staterooms.
Opulence touched every area of this boat.An expansive king-size bed took up most of the room, with white wooden nightstands and a giant mirror along the headboard.The room looked out onto the port side of the boat and contained a small en suite bathroom.
She used it, then stared at herself in the mirror.She didn’t look like a person who had survived at sea and was now being held hostage.But then again, she’d never seen herself as a victim.
She didn’t typically stand around looking at herself, really.She combed her fingers through her hair, braided it into a long ponytail, then stepped out of the room.