A Perilous Eden

by Heather Graham

  “What?”

  She was reaching for the doorknob and when he slammed the door shut, her temper soared. “Just let—”

  His mouth closed over hers. His kiss was hot and passionate and demanding, then achingly sweet, and it seemed to steal all her strength. Then his lips rose just slightly, and she felt his tempest again. His whisper was harsh, yet still his hold upon her was tender. “Damn you, damn you for making me want you.”

  Suddenly he wasn’t holding her anymore. She turned and fled from the room, hurrying to dinner.

  It was a stilted meal. The senator was as tense as Michael. The others drifted away from the table early, until only Michael, the senator and Amber remained. “What are you doing tonight?” the senator asked her.

  She arched a brow. “Nothing special. I’ll probably walk on deck and maybe visit one of the lounges.”

  “Visit the lounge.” Michael’s hand was on hers, and he issued the words as an order.

  She stared at his bronzed hand. What was it that he was doing tonight? Ah, yes, that all-important poker game. She smiled. “Please don’t worry about me. I am well able to find my own entertainment.”

  “Yes, I know. But you shouldn’t be wandering alone on deck at night. Visit the lounge. Go to bed early.”

  Daldrin cleared his throat. “Amber is a grown woman, you know.” Those words sounded like a warning, too. She was losing her mind. She didn’t know if the two men liked or hated one another, or why they were being so confusing, so enigmatic. She stood. She didn’t know what Michael’s problem was this evening, but he had left her feeling more lost and confused than ever. More than anything, she wanted to be alone on deck. She wanted to hear the ocean and see the darkness and stand and let the breeze soothe her.

  “I’ll see the movie tonight, I think. Thank you, and excuse me.”

  She smiled sweetly and walked away. Michael was on his feet, too. She thought for a moment that he was going to follow her, but he didn’t Instead he spoke to the senator, then left the dining room by the port door.

  Amber hurried outside. The night was beautiful. The darkness, the whisper of the breeze, all closed around her.

  Damn you, Michael! she thought.

  7

  The Alexandria, International Waters

  June 15, 12:45 a.m.

  He was running late. What a fool he was. He should have left things alone; he shouldn’t have been so intense; he shouldn’t have shouted out orders. There were a million other places on the ship where she might be. There was no reason to worry that Amber might run right into things.

  In his cabin, he glanced at his watch. He had learned this morning that the boat would come between twelve-thirty and one o’clock. One nice thing about the senator being in on the plan was that he hadn’t needed to play any games. He’d told the man the time and the place, and that had been that. But now he had to plunge into the act, and his concentration was off. It shouldn’t be, but it was—and all because of her.

  He would miss her.…

  Revenge was at hand. He had waited a long, long time to know for certain, and now he did. And there just happened to be something noble that could be achieved, too—freedom for others. For the four military advisers, the two diplomats and the two bankers. And Daldrin and himself. He hoped that Daldrin would come out all right. The man had courage. Very few men would willingly step into the power of the Death Squad.

  Adam quickly discarded his dress suit, then zipped up black jeans and pulled a black turtleneck over his head. He tied on black sneakers and flipped up his mattress to find his weapons, sliding his pistol into his waistband and his knife into the sheath at his calf. He took a look around the room, then abandoned it. He wanted to be on deck the moment the assailants arrived just in case something went wrong. He didn’t want to take any chances with innocent lives.

  He went up to the Bahamas Deck. He could hear loud salsa music pouring out from the lounge as he hurried to the door opening to the forward lifeboat area. He glanced at his watch. It was time.

  The second he opened the door, he heard the screams.

  Damn! It had all gone to hell, straight to hell. Worse than that.

  Amber.

  Amber was on the floorboards, and one of Abdul’s cutthroats was straddled over her, his knife about to connect with her jugular. Adam raced forward in a blind fury, wrenching the man up and around.

  He had forgotten. For a moment he had actually forgotten his role. He had heard her scream, had seen her lying there, had seen the flash of the blade. Nothing else had mattered then, not even revenge. Not even the eight men on the island. Nothing.

  The danger was over. He left Amber where she lay and began to rail against her attacker in swift and furious Spanish. He reminded the man that he was in control, that the orders had been no violence on the ship, no bloodshed.

  “Michael!” she whispered.

  Run! he wanted to shout to her. Run away quickly. I’ll stop them.…

  “Michael … thank God!” she said. Her eyes were wide, her hair wild, everything about her feminine and trusting. And Abdul’s men were laughing and snickering as she pitched herself into his arms.

  Damn her. Damn her a thousand times over. She shouldn’t have been on deck. He shouldn’t feel for her the things that he did, and she shouldn’t trust him. He shouldn’t be relishing her warmth against him while he desperately wondered how to save her life. And her eyes shouldn’t be on him, so beautiful, but wide with dawning horror and reproach and fury.

  “No, Amber,” he said softly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not here to help you.”

  “You bastard.”

  Her hatred hurt. The depth of his pain was startling, like the twist of a knife. He lowered his face and whispered softly to her, “Damn you, Amber, you should have run, you little fool!”

  She wrenched away from him, and this time she did start to run. But he couldn’t allow her to get away. The others would kill her, given half a chance. He caught her by the hair and jerked her into his arms. He glared at her warningly, his fingers tightening in her hair.

  “She has to be killed,” one of the men began in Spanish.

  “No!” His grip grew ever tighter. He needed to hold her still and keep her silent.

  “Let me go!” she shrieked.

  He clapped a hand down hard over her mouth. “Shut up, Miss Larkspur,” he whispered to her. “Shut up. Now. I’m doing my best to save your miserable little interfering life!” His touch was brutal, his words harsh. They had to be. The fellow he had decked for nearly killing her was up and at the railing and looking down. The men who had already taken the senator must surely be wondering what the hell was going on. He switched languages, speaking in Arabic to demonstrate his authority. “Signal that we’re coming down, that we’re bringing an extra hostage.”

  He dared not show his relief when the man obeyed him. He couldn’t leave Amber—they wouldn’t allow that. He had to take her, there was no other choice. Then he had to hope and pray that he could still pull this whole damn thing off.

  If only she had listened to him! If only she hadn’t been on deck.

  But she had been. And now she was in his arms, and he was going to have to keep her there if he was going to keep her alive. He whispered harshly to Amber. “This is my party, Miss Larkspur. You weren’t invited, but you’re here.” He slowly eased his hold on her mouth.

  She started to scream again. Furious, desperate, he swore. “Damn you!” He clamped his hand tightly over her mouth again. “Stop it!” he hissed. If she screamed again, someone might well stab her, whether he was holding her or not. “Amber, I’ll give you one warning—”

  She bit him.

  He released her and slammed his fist against her jaw.

  She slumped into his arms, and he looked at the men. “What the hell are you staring at?” he demanded sharply, reverting to Spanish again. “Let’s get going.” He gestured to the strong rope dangling from the rail.

  The men crawled down the rope ea
sily, silently. Adam followed with less grace, balancing Amber’s weight. When he fell the last few feet to the small motor launch, he tried to break her fall with his body. The small boat pitched and swayed as Adam crawled along the floor to sit on the far aft seat, staring straight ahead. Two of the men flanked Daldrin, who sat in silence between them. The one who had tried to kill Amber stared at Adam, fury in his eyes, but Adam ignored him. A third man was behind him, and the last was gunning the engine, heading into the darkness of the night.

  Twenty minutes later, in the midst of an inky eternity, they came upon a cabin cruiser. It was small compared with the Alexandria, but big and beautiful compared with others of its classification. It was a good sixty-five feet long, Adam was certain.

  The launch pulled up alongside the cruiser, where Ali Abdul, still in his desert robes despite the humidity of the tropics, waited on deck as the ladder was lowered.

  “What’s this?” he demanded when he saw Adam.

  “A woman. She was on deck.”

  “You should have thrown her over the rail,” someone advised sharply. It was Khazar, coming from behind his father. He stared down dispassionately at Adam’s feminine burden.

  “I told them no bloodshed on the ship,” Ali said. His voice was low, but it was still the voice of command.

  “If you intend to hurt that woman,” Daldrin said, speaking at last, “you may as well kill me here and now. I’ll be no bargaining pawn for you if she is harmed.”

  “We’ll discuss it—” Khazar began.

  “There will be no discussion,” Adam said flatly. He threw Amber over his shoulder and swung aboard the cabin cruiser. “She’s mine. I will look after her, and I will see to her behavior.”

  “Father,” Khazar began angrily, “since when do American riffraff and politicians tell you what to do?”

  “I have proven myself,” Adam said simply. “I am here. Daldrin is here, as you wished. Without me, you never would have gotten past the American security.”

  “I tell you, if she’s hurt—” Daldrin began.

  “Shut him up!” Khazar ordered.

  Still balancing Amber’s unconscious weight, Adam reached down and grasped the senator’s hand. “Come on up, old man,” he said.

  “Take him to the forward cabin. Lock him in and leave a guard,” Ali ordered. He was instantly obeyed. Then he turned to stare at Adam. “You take orders from me. Leave her in the galley, for now. I will hear more.”

  There was a door to a large cabin behind the mainmast and wheel. Adam strode through it, carrying Amber down a small flight of steps and over to a sofa against the wall. There was no sign that he had struck her, as yet. She seemed asleep, beautiful, peaceful. He prayed that he could maintain his authority. He was afraid of what they would do to her if he didn’t.

  He paused, unable to forget the sense of betrayal he had seen in her eyes.

  “Adam. Come topside and speak to me.”

  Ali was leaning through the doorway. Adam nodded and left Amber, hurrying up the steps.

  Ali was seated with men hovering around him: the four in the wet suits who had been with Adam on the deck of the Alexandria; two additional swarthy men, both a little older than the others. “Khazar is with our guest, the senator,” Ali told Adam. “Raphael, Juan, Jose and Jaime are with our Central American faction, as you know. This is Mohammed beside me, and over here, Aladin. My very good friends for many long years. Now, tell me, what is the woman doing here?”

  “And why is she yours?” the one named Juan demanded.

  “I answer to Ali Abdul and no other man,” Adam said.

  Ali watched him, then nodded. “Yes, that is so. You answer to me alone.”

  “She is my mistress,” he said.

  “You were not permitted to bring a mistress.”

  “I did not intend to do so. We became lovers when I infiltrated the senator’s office. I had arranged for her to be elsewhere, but she wandered out on deck. She entered into this by accident. But she is mine, and I will keep her silent and well behaved.”

  Ali waited a long time before he replied. “Tomorrow we come to the island. You will see that there is no trouble. If there is, she dies.”

  “I will see that she understands.”

  “Juan, see if the woman has awakened. If she has, bring her to me.”

  Juan did as he was told. Ali watched Adam. “You will explain to the Americans that the Fourth of July will bring them great tragedy if they do not meet my demands.”

  “Yes, I understand. How will I communicate with them?”

  “I will send you to Mexico. You will communicate there.”

  Adam turned as he realized that Amber had been brought to the canopied helm area. She was shoeless, her elegant scarf was gone, and her chin was very high despite the terror and fury in her eyes. From her shoulders to her toes, she was proud and beautiful, every inch a desirable woman. He knew that Juan felt it, too, and he told Ali softly, “Make him understand that the woman is mine. He may not touch her.”

  Juan exploded in fury. “Are we not brothers? Do we not share? She was not welcome, but she is here. She will be nothing but trouble.”

  “She is my concern.” Adam insisted. “Mine.”

  An argument broke out, and Juan kept repeating that he, too, had a right to the woman. The older men, Ali’s companions, were impatient, saying that Adam had his rights.

  Then Amber spoke, silencing them all. “What the hell is going on?” she exploded. “None of you has any rights where I’m concerned. You’re criminals! You let me go—and the senator—this instant or I swear I shall—”

  “Ali, let me handle her,” Adam said in Arabic. He needed to get her alone, even though he couldn’t explain to her who he was yet. She was in a panic, and she might easily betray him or she might not believe him. Then they’d all be dead. If she didn’t stop, the only way to handle things would be to hurt her.

  “Where is the senator?” Amber demanded.

  “Shut up!” Adam ordered.

  She didn’t shut up. “They’ll hang you, Adams. They’ll get you, you bastard, one way or the other. Maybe they’ll shoot you for treason. It’s—” He didn’t want to hear any more of her words.

  “Shut up, Amber,” he warned her again.

  “The hell I will—”

  He reached her before she could move and slapped her hard across the cheek. The stunned pain that entered her eyes seemed to reach into his soul, but he didn’t dare falter. She had to be cowed.

  She wasn’t. She struck him back with a blow that rang in his ears.

  Laughter rose. Laughter. Juan roared out that Adam’s puta wore the pants. She heard the word, and she understood it. Eyes wide, she protested, “No! I’m nothing to this man! Listen to me—”

  “Shut up!” Adam thundered. He didn’t dare let her go on. He clamped one hand over her mouth, grabbed her with the other and tossed her over his shoulder. He had to regain the men’s respect. He faced Ali. “There’s a private cabin for me?”

  Ali nodded. Amber fought wildly as Adam hurried down the stairs with her, passing through the galley and salon before he pushed open a door to reveal a cabin with a narrow bunk. He tossed her down on it, but she rose, still fighting.

  He pushed her backward and stripped off his shirt. If she wanted a fight, she was going to get one. And she was going to lose.

  She had gone silent, watching him strip off his shirt. In the pale light her hair spilled over her shoulders, and he ached to possess her. He hardened himself against her.

  “Let me go, you son of a bitch!” she demanded.

  He unbuckled his belt and pulled it from his belt loops, wrapping the end around his hand and locking his jaw as she started to scream. He let loose with the belt, striking the bunk with vehemence. She stared at him.

  “Dear God …” she gasped.

  He took a step toward the bed and wrenched her against him. “Scream again,” he ordered curtly.

  “What?”

  “Screa
m again.”

  “Michael, I don’t—”

  “You idiot, I said scream!”

  She was still staring at him, tense and trembling and beautiful, but not uttering a sound. He gritted his teeth still more tightly, and then he knew. He knew what would make her scream.

  He released her shoulders and caught hold of her bodice, wrenching it apart. She fought him, letting out a scream that brought a grim smile to his lips.

  “Good scream,” he said, splitting the gown to her navel. She fell back on the bunk, trying to hold her clothing and her dignity together. He sat down and removed his sneakers.

  “I’ll kill you myself!” she swore.

  He stripped off his jeans, leaving his knife hidden under the pants. He set his gun on the bureau. If they were disturbed in the night, he wanted it to be obvious that they’d been together.

  She was staring at him with horror and hatred, and he suddenly realized what he was doing. They’d been together so intimately that it hadn’t seemed to matter, but now he saw that it did. It mattered to her. Suddenly the hatred in her eyes disturbed him. She might have realized that he was trying to keep her alive; she might have known enough about him not to believe in the evil that she saw.

  “No …” she whispered.

  “Amber, my love,” he mocked her, “there’s nothing new here.”

  She flew at him like a wildcat, and he warned her to stop. When she didn’t, he told her to give herself a chance. But in the end he had to subdue her, his naked form atop her.

  Finally a single word left her lips. A plea. “Don’t …”

  “Listen to me. And listen good. I am trying to keep you alive.”

  She was never, never going to believe him. He saw it in her eyes. Damn her. He levered himself away from her, running his fingers through his hair. What she felt didn’t matter, he reminded himself hollowly. He hadn’t loved her, hadn’t told her that he loved her; he had just wanted her. And he had admired her. He still admired her. But he didn’t love her; he was still in love with Sonia. Amber could think what she wanted.

  As long as she came to heel. No matter how cold or cruel he had to be, he had to make her come to heel.