Page 80

Then he headed back up the stairs and into the galley.The boat listed in the water, just the hum of the AC units betraying life.He searched the stern.Nothing.But on the port side, Steinbeck dumped something into the harbor waters.
Oh.Declan didn’t want to know, and maybe that was for the best.
Steinbeck came in through the salon doors.“You get up to the bridge.I’ll get us off the dock.”
“We should wait for Phoenix,” Declan said.
A beat.“She’ll be here,” Steinbeck said.“Let’s get moving.”
Declan took the outer stairs to the spa deck and then up to the sky lounge and finally onto the bridge.The console lights illuminated the darkness.He’d been up here at least twice while Teresa had taken the boat out of dock, and before that had watched the previous captain of theInvictus, a skipper out of Grenada, take the boat out of harbor.So he wasn’t a pro, but he could certainly figure out how to drive his own yacht.
Declan fired up both engines, saw them come to life on the monitors.The deck cameras showed Steinbeck pulling the rope from one of the cleats.He tossed the rope onto the boat and then ran down the dock to the other cleat.Declan searched the console, found the reverse and forward throttles for each engine, the compass, the wheel attached to the helm.He could figure this out.
On-screen, Steinbeck threw the other rope onto the boat, then stood on the dock, his hands on his hips, staring out into the darkness.
Declan could almost feel his thoughts.Come on, Phoenix.Come on.
Finally Steinbeck scrubbed his hands down his face and turned, ran up the gangway.Then activated the hydraulics and pulled the bridge.
Oh no.
Steinbeck stared again into the darkness, clearly hoping that she would appear.He waited a second, then another, and finally he turned and ran up the stairs to the pilothouse.
Declan already knew what he was going to say when he opened the bridge door.
“Let’s go,” Steinbeck said.“It won’t take them long to figure out what’s going on.”
“Phoenix?”
Steinbeck shook his head.“I don’t know.”
“We should wait.”
“No, we should go.She can take care of herself.”But his jaw tightened as Declan maneuvered the yacht off the dock and out into the shiny black harbor.
Declan didn’t blame him at all when Steinbeck walked outside and slammed his fist against the rail.
Then Declan motored them out of the harbor into the dark ocean water, the moonlight glistening on the waves ahead, the yacht gaining speed.Now they just had to get out of Cuban waters.
Steinbeck came in, his expression still strained.He stood with his arms folded, staring into the darkness.Declan glanced at him.“Um...maybe someone should go get Austen?”
“Right.”He turned to head out the door.
Stopped.
Out of the corner of Declan’s eye, he saw Steinbeck put his hands up, take a step back.
Austen appeared in the room, her hands also raised.Behind her, Sergei held a gun to the nape of her neck.
“Ach,” he said.“Welcome back.”
* * *
She’d frozen.
Austen wouldn’t even call it staying calm.Her body had simply shut down and stopped working when the Russian opened up the door to the crew room and stared at her.
Sure, she’d held a gun, but she didn’t lift it, didn’t point it at him,nothing.She’d just stared, and of course the man had reached out and grabbed the gun, which left her with no recourse except to scream.