by Nora Roberts
Like a light switched, his eyes changed. The vicious temper turned into a smile that was edgy and thin. “There are those who believe that corporal punishment is unwise, even uncivilized.” Daintily he fussed with his lapels, then sat. Brushing a hand back, he signaled for the stone-faced steward to retrieve the wine and glasses. “However, I disagree. I’m a firm believer that pain and punishment are very effective for instilling a sense of discipline. And certainly respect. I demand respect. I’ve earned it. Do try one of these olives, dear.” The avuncular host once more, he offered her a crystal dish. “They’re from one of my groves in Greece.”
Because her hands were shaking badly she kept them locked under the table. What kind of man threatened to inflict pain one moment, and offered exotic tidbits the next? A mad one.
“What do you want?”
“First, to share a congenial meal in a lovely spot with an attractive woman.” His brow lifted when her cheeks went white. “Don’t fret, dear Tate. My feelings for you are much too paternal for me to entertain any sexual notions. Your honor, as you might think of it, is more than safe.”
“I’m supposed to be relieved that rape isn’t on your itinerary?”
“Another ugly word.” Mildly annoyed with her choice of it, he helped himself to the dish of olives and the antipasto. “A man who stoops to forcing himself on a woman sexually isn’t a man at all in my opinion. One of my executives in New York browbeat and intimidated his assistant into having sex with him. She had to be hospitalized when he’d finished.”
VanDyke sliced through a piece of prosciutto. “I arranged to have him fired—after I’d had him castrated.” He dabbed at his mouth with a pale blue linen napkin. “I like to think she would have thanked me. Please, try the lobster. I guarantee it’s superb.”
“I don’t seem to have much of an appetite.” Tate shoved her plate aside in a gesture she knew was foolishly defiant. “You got me here, VanDyke, and obviously you can keep me here. At least until Matthew and my family start looking for me.” Lifting her chin, she stared directly into his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“We will have to discuss Matthew,” he mused, “but that can wait. I want what I’ve always wanted. I want what belongs to me. Angelique’s Curse.”
Worry gnawed at her stomach as Marla paced the hotel lobby. No matter how many times she told herself that Tate couldn’t have simply disappeared, she was terrified. She watched people come and go, staff bustling along to perform duties, guests strolling from pool to lounge to garden.
She heard laughter, the splash of children swimming, the whirl of the blender that mixed frosty island drinks for those waiting at the bar.
She and Matthew had separated—she, to ask at the front desk, to question the doormen, the cabdrivers, anyone who might have seen Tate leave the resort, he to check the beach and the dock.
When she spotted Matthew coming toward her, Marla’s heart leapt. Only when she saw that he was alone, when she saw the grim look in his eyes, did it sink again.
“Tate.”
“Several people saw her. She met someone, left with him by tender.”
“Left? Who did she meet? Are you sure it was her?”
“It was her.” The panic that raced through him could be controlled. But not so easy was it to control the need to kill. “The description I got fits VanDyke.”
“No.” Weak with fear, she reached out to take his arm. “She wouldn’t have gone with him.”
“She wouldn’t unless he hadn’t given her a choice.”
“The police,” she said faintly. “We’ll call the police.”
“And tell them that she left the island, without putting up any struggle, with the man who endowed her last project?” Eyes hard and hot, he shook his head. “We don’t know how many cops he owns either. We do this my way.”
“Matthew, if he hurts her . . .”
“He won’t.” But they both knew he said it only to soothe. “He has no reason to. Let’s get back. My guess is that he won’t be far from where we’re moored.”
He doesn’t know. Tate’s mind whirled with possibilities. He’d known where to find them. Had somehow known what they were doing. But he didn’t know what they’d found. Stalling, she reached for her glass again.
“Do you think, if I had it, I’d give it to you?”
“Oh, I think when you have it you’ll give it to me to save Matthew and the others. It’s time we worked together, Tate, as I’ve planned for some time.”
“You’ve planned?”
“Yes. Though not in quite the way I had hoped.” He brooded over that for a moment, then brushed it aside. “I’m willing to overlook your mistakes, I’m even willing to let you and your team reap the rewards of the Isabella. All I want is the amulet.”
“You’d take it and walk away? What assurance do I have of that?”
“My word, of course.”
“Your word means less than nothing to me.” She gasped involuntarily when he crushed her fingers in his hand.
“I don’t tolerate insults.” When he released her, her hand throbbed like a bad tooth. “A man’s word is sacred, Tate,” he said with eerie calm. “My proposition stands. The amulet is all I want from you. In exchange for it, you’ll have the fame and the fortune that goes with the Isabella. Your name will be made. I’m even willing to assist on that point wherever I have influence.”
“I don’t want your influence.”
“You benefited from it many times in the past eight years. But I did that for my own pleasure. Still it wounds to have generosity met with ingratitude.” His face darkened. “Lassiter’s doing. I understand that. You realize that by aligning yourself with him you’re lowering your expectations, your standards, your social and professional opportunities. A man like him will never be an asset to you on any level.”
“A man like Matthew Lassiter makes you look like a child. A spoiled, evil child.” Her head snapped back and her eyes watered when the back of his hand slashed across her cheek.
“I warned you.” Furious, he shoved his plate aside. The force of it sent it bulleting off the table to smash on the deck. “I won’t tolerate disrespect. I’ve made allowances as I admire your courage and intelligence, but you will mind your tongue.”
“I despise you.” She braced for another blow. “If I found the amulet, I’d destroy it before turning it over to you.”
She watched him snap. The way his hands trembled as he surged to his feet. There was murder in his eyes. More than that, she understood. There was a kind of terrible delight. He would hurt her, she knew, and he would enjoy it.
The survival instinct kicked in over the numb fear. She sprang to her feet, leaping back when he grabbed for her. Without pausing, she sprinted for the rail. Water was safety. The sea would save her. But even as she poised to dive, she was dragged back.
She kicked, screamed, fought to find flesh that her teeth could sink into. The steward simply pinned her arms, yanking them viciously up behind her back until her vision grayed.
“Leave her to me.”
Dimly, she heard VanDyke’s voice as she fell bonelessly to the deck.
“You’re not as sensible as I’d hoped.” With the rage still in him, VanDyke snagged her abused arm and yanked her to her feet. Fresh agony had a sob catching in her throat. “Your loyalty is displaced, Tate. I’ll have to teach you—”
He broke off as the sound of a motor caught his attention. Hearing it, Tate swayed, turned her face toward the noise.
Matthew.
Terror and pain stripped aside all pride. She wept weakly when VanDyke let her drop to the deck a second time.
He’d come. She curled into a ball, nursing bruises. He’d take her away, and it wouldn’t hurt anymore. She wouldn’t be afraid anymore.
“Again,” VanDyke said, “you’re late.”
“It wasn’t a simple matter to leave.” LaRue landed lightly on deck. He glanced briefly at Tate before reaching for his tobacco. “You have a p
assenger, I see.”
“Fortune smiled on me.” Nearly steady again, VanDyke sat back down. He picked up a napkin to dab at his sweaty face. “I was handling a few details on the island when who should cross my path but the delightful Ms. Beaumont.”
LaRue clucked his tongue and helped himself to Tate’s champagne. “There’s a mark on her face. I disapprove of the rough treatment of women.”
VanDyke’s teeth bared. “I don’t pay you for your approval.”
“Perhaps not.” LaRue decided to postpone his cigarette and enjoy the antipasto. “When Matthew discovers you have her, he’ll come looking.”
“Of course.” That would make up for everything. Nearly everything. “Have you come only to tell me what I already know?”
“LaRue.” Trembling, Tate struggled to her knees. “Matthew, where’s Matthew?”
“I would guess he is speeding back from Nevis to search for you.”
“But—” She shook her head to clear it. “What are you doing here?” Slowly it began to register that he was alone, that he was sitting comfortably at the table, nibbling.
He smiled when he saw the knowledge seep into her eyes, and with it disgust. “So, the light dawns.”
“You work for him. Matthew trusted you. We all trusted you.”
“I would hardly have earned my keep if you hadn’t.”
She wiped the weak tears from her cheek. “For money? You’ve betrayed Matthew for money?”
“I have a great fondness for money.” Dismissing her, he turned back, popped an olive into his mouth. “And speaking of my great fondness, I will require another bonus.”
“LaRue, I’m growing tired of your added demands.” VanDyke held up a finger. In answer, the steward stepped forward, flipped open his sharply creased white jacket and took out a highly polished .32. “I might redeem myself in Tate’s eyes by having you shot in several painful places and thrown overboard. I believe you’d draw sharks nicely.”
Lips pursed, LaRue contemplated his choice of peppers. “If you kill me, your hopes for Angelique’s Curse die with me.”
VanDyke clenched his fist until he calmed again. Another quick signal had the .32 disappearing under the tailored coat. “I also grow tired of you dangling the amulet.”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand American dollars,” LaRue began, and shut his eyes briefly to savor the hot, sweet flavor of the pepper. “And the amulet is yours.”
“Bastard,” Tate whispered. “I hope he does kill you.”
“Business is business,” LaRue said with a shrug. “I see that she has yet to tell you of our luck, mon ami. We have Angelique’s Curse. For a quarter of a million, I’ll see that it is safely in your hands by tomorrow, nightfall.”
CHAPTER 26
A NGELIQUE’S C URSE GLITTERED in Matthew’s hands. He stood on the bridge of the Mermaid, his fingers wrapped tight around the chain. The hot white sun poured over the ruby, flashed the diamonds, sparkled the gold. Here was the treasure of a lifetime, fortune and fame in metal and stone.
Here was misery.
Everyone he’d loved had been hurt by it. Holding it, he could see the lifeless body of his father, crumpled on the deck of a boat. The face, so like his own, bleached white in death.
He could see Buck in the jaws of a shark, blood swirling in the water.
He could see Tate, tears in her eyes, offering him the amulet, offering him the choice of salvation or destruction.
But he couldn’t see her now. He couldn’t know where she’d been taken or what had been done to her. All he knew was that he would do anything, give anything to get her back.
The cursed necklace weighed like lead in his hands and mocked him with beauty.
Eyes blazing, he turned as Buck came onto the bridge.
“Still no sign of LaRue.” Spotting the amulet, Buck took a jerky step back.
Matthew swore and laid the necklace on the chart table. “Then we move without him. We can’t wait.”
“Move where? What the hell are we going to do? I’m with Ray and Marla on this, Matthew. We gotta call in the cops.”
“Did the cops do us any good last time?”
“This ain’t piracy, boy, it’s kidnapping.”
“It was murder once, too,” Matthew said coldly. “He got her, Buck.” He leaned against the chart table, warring against the old helplessness. “In front of dozens of people he walked right off with her.”
“He’d trade her for that.” Wetting his lips, Buck forced himself to look at the necklace. “Like a ransom.”
Hadn’t he been waiting, praying by the radio, for VanDyke to make contact? Matthew thought. “I can’t afford to count on that. Can’t afford to wait any longer.”
He grabbed binoculars, shoved them at Buck. “Due west.”
Stepping up, Buck lifted the binoculars, skimmed the sea. He focused in on the yacht, hardly more than a glimmer of sleek white. “A mile off,” he murmured. “Could be him.”
“It’s him.”
“He’d be waiting for you. Expecting you to come after her.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would I?”
“He’ll kill you.” Resigned now, Buck set the glasses aside. “You could give him that fucking thing wrapped in a bow and he’d still kill you. Just like he did James.”
“I’m not giving it to him,” Matthew returned. “And he’s not killing anyone.” Impatient, he seized the binoculars, searched the sea for a sign of LaRue. Time was up.
“I need you, Buck.” He set the glasses down again. “I need you to dive.”
Terror and pain were no longer important. Tate watched LaRue eat heartily as he betrayed his partners. She no longer thought of escape as she lunged to her feet and flew at him.
The attack was so unexpected, her prey so complacent, that she was able to knock him out of his chair. Her nails scraped viciously down his cheek, drawing blood before he managed to flip and hold her down.
“You’re even worse than he is,” she spat out, wriggling like an eel under him. “He’s just crazy. You’re revolting. If VanDyke doesn’t kill you, Matthew will. I hope I get to watch.”
Amused, excited by the display, VanDyke sipped champagne. He let the wrestling match play on, enjoying LaRue’s grunts as he fought to restrain Tate. Then with a sigh, he signaled the steward. He couldn’t afford to have LaRue overly damaged. Quite yet.
“Show Ms. Beaumont her stateroom,” he ordered. “And see that she’s not disturbed.” He smiled as his man hauled Tate to her feet. She kicked, cursed and struggled, but she was outweighed by a hundred pounds of solid muscle. “I think you should have some rest, my dear, while LaRue and I complete our business. I’m sure you’ll find your accommodations more than suitable.”
“Burn in hell,” she shouted, choking on tears of frustration as she was carried off. “Both of you.”
VanDyke squirted a bit of lemon on his lobster. “An admirable woman all in all. Not easily cowed. A pity her loyalties are so misplaced. I could have done great things with her. For her, as well. Now she’s bait.” He nibbled delicately. “Nothing more.”
LaRue wiped at the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand. The furrows she’d dug burned like fire. Though VanDyke frowned in annoyance, he used the linen napkin to staunch it.
“Next to money, love is the most powerful motivator.” More shaken than he cared to admit, LaRue poured the flute full and drank it down.
“You were telling me about Angelique’s Curse before we were interrupted.”
“Yes.” Surreptitiously LaRue rubbed at his ribs where Tate’s elbow had jabbed. Damned if he wasn’t going to bruise. “And about two hundred and fify thousand dollars. American.”
The money was nothing. He’d spent a hundred times that in his search already. But it bubbled in his blood to pay it. “What proof is there that you have the amulet?”
Lips curled, LaRue lifted a hand to his shredded cheek. “Come now, mon ami. Tate found it herself only yesterday, and with love
guiding her, handed it selflessly to Matthew.” To soothe his frayed nerves, LaRue began to roll a cigarette. “It is magnificent, more so than you had led me to believe. The center stone . . .” LaRue made a circle with his thumb and forefinger to indicate size. “Red as blood, the diamonds around it iced tears. The chain is heavy but delicately wrought, as is the sentiment etched around the jewel.”
He struck a match, cupping it against the light breeze, to light his cigarette. “You can feel the power humming in it. Against your fingers it seems to throb.”
VanDyke’s eyes glazed, his mouth went slack. “You touched it?”
“Bien sûr. I am trusted, eh?” He blew out a lazy stream of smoke. “Matthew guards it close, you see, but he doesn’t guard against me. We are shipmates, partners, friends. I can get it for you, once I am assured the money is in place.”
“You’ll have your money.” Need had VanDyke’s hands trembling. His face was white and still as he leaned forward. “And this promise, LaRue. If you cross me, if you try to bleed more money from me or if you fail, there is no place you can hide that I won’t find you. When I do, you’ll pray for death.”
LaRue dragged in more smoke and smiled. “It’s difficult to frighten a rich man. And rich is what I’ll be. You’ll have your curse, mon ami, and I my money.” Before he could rise, VanDyke held up a hand.
“We aren’t finished. A quarter of a million is a great deal.”
“A fraction of the worth,” LaRue pointed out. “Would you try to negotiate now when it is all but in your hands?”
“I’ll double it.” Pleased to see LaRue’s eyes widen, VanDyke leaned back. “For the amulet, and for Matthew Lassiter.”
“You want me to bring him to you?” With a laugh, LaRue shook his head. “Not even your precious amulet could protect you from him. He means to kill you.” He gestured in the direction where Tate had been taken. “And you have the tool to bring him down already in your possession.”
