Mist

by Miller, Maureen A.

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking away from him and narrowing her gaze on the door. “And no, your men can’t help themselves to whatever is in the cabinet.”

  Hawkins chuckled. “Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, they can.”

  Jack took a step forward and Hawkins’s fingers reflexively tightened their grip on the gun.

  “You’re correct, Mr. Morell. We have the footlocker and its contents−”

  “Why the hell didn’t you just say that?” Olivia demanded.

  A twitch of a muscle beneath Hawkins’s eye was the only acknowledgement of her outburst.

  “You could have taken something out of the trunk and hid it for all we know. But right now,” he said steadily, “we need you both to ensure the cooperation of your uncle should he suddenly turn up.”

  “If he shows up,” Jack inserted, “you’ll get nothing out of him, regardless of whether or not you detain us.”

  Hawkins rose, placing him in close proximity of Jack. At this tight range Jack caught a tangy whiff of hair gel. Staring hard into pale eyes he felt the man’s arrogance−his certainty.

  “We’re not going to wait forever,” Hawkins uttered quietly. “I have been told by my superior that we will keep you until morning−so you better hope that he materializes by then.”

  “And what happens to us in the morning?”

  “I’ll have to see what my orders are,” Hawkins replied coolly. “But in the meantime, if you have any more information to share that we deem helpful−”

  Anything that might prolong our lives.

  “I’d like to know what happened to the Pembrook to warrant this reaction.”

  Wrinkles wormed across the man’s forehead as if it took the effort of every muscle to heft his eyebrows.

  “I’m sure you would.”

  “Was the container ship transporting something of yours? Is that what you’re searching for so desperately?” Jack nudged forward and the gun hoisted between them.

  Olivia’s gasp filled the cramped quarters.

  Hawkins inched his chin back and managed a cool look of disdain.

  “We’ll continue to trace your cell. If Warren contacts you, we’ll find him.”

  Reaching a knuckle out, he wrapped on the door. The guard opened it, eyeing Olivia with an avid mixture of interest and bloodlust. His bony cheekbone was dissected by a nasty cut. A product of the pipes she had unleashed. If this was the man who assaulted her in her house, she had seen to it that they possessed matching wounds.

  “Keep this cabin secure tonight,” Hawkins commanded as he shouldered past the man dressed in black.

  With a parting sneer the guard closed the door. A quick succession of dull thunks sounded from the other side, undoubtedly the tap of his gun against the wood−a grim reminder of what faced them outside.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Livvy stared at the door.

  A small whiteboard hanging from the back of it had been knocked askew.

  COFFEE

  SUGAR

  She tipped her head at the words noted in black marker.

  “I’m really hoping that doesn’t mean you’re out of coffee,” she muttered in an unrecognizable voice.

  Jack stood still. Only his fierce glance roved from hers to the cabinet. His silence put her on edge. Maybe she wasn’t the strongest soul, but over the past few years an inner strength had prevailed. Inner strength be damned—she needed this man now. His words. His touch. Though he was only a foot or two away she might as well have been standing on a remote island—an island surrounded by sharks and razor sharp coral.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “We’re out of coffee.” He reached up and scratched the back of his head. “But there is a bottle of Wild Turkey under the sink.”

  Livvy’s lips twitched. They felt like bending rubber in an icebox.

  “I think that just might work.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed with the hint of a grin.

  One more painful moment of silence and then he turned to her.

  “Olivia.” His hand extended.

  For a breath she just stared at it. A rough hand. A tanned hand. A hand that had held a gun. A hand that had caressed her cheek.

  Tremulous fingers reached for it, and the moment they connected she let loose a soft whimper. As soon as his powerful grip wrapped around her, he tugged gently and she flowed into that haul.

  “Olivia,” he whispered into her hair, his strong arms winding around her.

  Her hands crept behind his neck and hooked him tight. With her nose pressed into the lapel of his jacket she inhaled the strong scent of the ocean. The salt and the spice of the Atlantic enveloped her.

  “Oh baby,” he murmured in her hair, against her forehead, against her cheek−his lips roaming each time he whispered the words.

  Burrowing in closer, she marveled at the connection she felt with this man. There were no doubts−no distrust remained. There was a nexus. A union bred from the knowledge that you shared a common goal with someone. To live.

  Reaching for her shoulders, Jack set her back slightly so that he could look into her eyes. His were turbulent, mirroring the encroaching darkness outside the window.

  “We need to make a decision, and it has to be a joint decision.”

  Livvy swallowed down a fresh bout of nerves.

  “I could use that Wild Turkey right now.”

  Jack’s smile warmed her.

  “Not yet, but we are going to take it with us.”

  Her glance slipped to the bottom bunk. “So we’re going to do this? We’re going to try to escape out the water tank hatch?” She frowned. “But to where? There’s at least one armed guard− plus Hawkins.” She started to pace as she kept her voice low. “We’d have to overpower them so that we can regain the ship.”

  Jack stooped to open the cabinet beneath the sink. He extracted the bourbon bottle, holding it up to the light to see its level. There wasn’t much.

  “As best I counted while we were boarding, there are at least three armed men plus Hawkins. We won’t be able to disable them all−” Amusement crept into his voice as he stood. “Although I did rather enjoy your attack with the Niskin bottles.”

  “Niskin? Oh, the pipes. Yes, well−” she simpered, “−so did I.”

  Moving to the window, she peered out into the aggressive darkness. A three-quarter moon slipped out of cloud coverage to leave a diamond-tiled path on the ocean surface. The Algonquin was gone from view and she pondered its fate. Would it end up at the bottom of the ocean? Would she end up at the bottom of the ocean? Had this been her destiny all along? To finally reunite with her family?

  Her shoulders twitched, shaking off the bleak notion.

  “But we’re still going to try it because we have no other choice, right?”

  “There’s one other choice,” he murmured behind her.

  Livvy swirled around, eyeing the tall man skeptically.

  “What?”

  Brooding for a moment, he spoke in a husky tone. “If we could make it to the stern deck undetected, and if there is no guard posted there−”

  “Those are two whopping ifs.”

  Nodding in agreement, he moved in closer to reduce his volume. “There is a swim platform mounted at the bottom of the aft deck.”

  “Oh my God, are you suggesting we jump off into the Atlantic?”

  Horror clawed at Livvy’s throat. As much as she loved the ocean, she didn’t want to swim through thirty miles of it. They’d never survive.

  “No,” Jack replied uneasily. “There is a sea kayak mounted to the wall of the stern just above that dive platform.”

  Sea kayak. Sea kayak.

  Immediately Livvy began calculating options. Calling them sea kayaks didn’t mean they could navigate the open ocean. They were designed for lakes, bays, and moderate ocean usage. One rogue wave out here and they would capsize.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But I’m concerned about what the morning holds for us. If they don�
�t hear from my uncle by then, we’re more or less dead weight to them.”

  Dead weight. A lovely analogy.

  “Your uncle had a motorized dinghy when he escaped by sea−”

  It was one step above a kayak. Both knew the man probably had not made it, or he would have contacted Jack by now.

  Livvy reached for Jack’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she rushed. “But, you see what I’m saying? Our chances in the open ocean with a kayak−even if we manage to survive an escape from this ship−well, they’re not good.”

  “This is why I said this would be a joint decision, or it’s a no-go.” He clasped her hand. “I don’t want to try this if you’re hesitant at all. We’ll just take our chances with these guys come morning.”

  Livvy groaned. “That’s not the best option either.”

  What to do?

  She looked up into Jack’s eyes. Shadows lurked at their corners. Dark stubble wrapped around his chin and faded below his angular cheekbones. Grim conviction rained down on her.

  “I’m not good with the whole waiting thing,” she whispered. Emotion tampered with her vocal chords. “I’m more of a now kind of chick.”

  “I would have never guessed that.” He smiled hollowly, squeezing her hand. “There is a bottle of water under the counter. We’ll take that. No whisky, though. We can’t carry much else because we won’t fit through the access panel. If−” he hesitated, “−if we can launch the kayak and get into it without being noticed−well, at least we stand a chance out there. As long as the clouds cooperate, we can navigate by the stars. We don’t know how far we’ve gone already. The Odyssey doesn’t move too fast, as you well know−but hell, we could be approaching land at any time. There are islands they might be aiming for−who knows. And we’ll reach fishing traffic soon, and bay traffic.”

  “A virtual boy scout you are,” she mused, but was already considering the possibilities. “I’m guessing we’re doing this by the dead of night, right?”

  Jack nodded soberly. “The sooner the better. Hopefully our homeboy, Hawkins, might nod off by midnight and leave his cronies to deal with us.”

  “One man down,” she agreed. “Who the hell is he, Jack?”

  Jack glanced down at his watch and shrugged. “Military. No doubt. He wore a ring that I couldn’t identify, but it’s a service ring.”

  “Should I pout and point out that the military is here to protect us.”

  That earned a pleasant flash of teeth. “That’s not to say that he’s still in the military. I’m just guessing he came from there at one point.”

  “That contraption could alter the weather? That would put it in demand by foreign governments. He doesn’t want other countries dredging the ocean floor and stealing our technology?”

  Jack mulled that. “It’s a working theory. It could be validated by my uncle. He has the greater expertise in that field.”

  “Right.” Livvy tapped her head, “Crunchy little sea creatures is your bag.”

  The heat of his stare charged through her arms and down to her core. “When we get out of this,” he said in a husky tone, “I’m going to show you all about those crunchy little sea creatures.”

  Livvy settled her palm over her stomach. Yes, he had spoken, but the words had little to do with the message in his eyes. There she saw a promise. There she saw passion. There she saw the possibility of a future. There she saw a raw man who had his world turned on its edge, similar to her past. She felt exposed around him, but the exposure was authentic. It was not a persona aimed at placing others at ease. With this man she was allowed to feel real.

  “I mean it, Olivia,” he whispered.

  She knew exactly what he meant, but there was no sense dwelling on fantasies when their reality had placed them on the endangered list.

  “Sure could go for a sip of that bourbon right now,” she muttered.

  The gravity never left his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders abated. He reached for the bottle on the counter. “I wanted to take this with us−to keep us warm, but we can’t chance a glass bottle clanging against something as we crawl through there.” His nose nudged towards the bunk bed. “The water bottle is plastic at least.”

  “Then maybe just a fortifying sip for courage?”

  “I’m serious, Olivia. If you have any doubts, don’t do this. Stay on the ship. We don’t know if they’re seriously going to hurt us or it’s all just inflated threats.”

  Livvy pursed her lips. Yes we do.

  On the wall, the black arm of a stenciled clock ticked closer to midnight. They both stared at it, transfixed. Its steady pulse prevailed over the subtle roar of the ocean punishing the Odyssey’s hull. Above them thumped two footsteps, followed by the squeak of a door.

  “They’re still up,” she whispered.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Boots clamored down the exterior stairs.

  “Quick,” Jack stepped onto the bunk and hefted himself to the top bed. “Lay down. Act relaxed.”

  Livvy scrambled beneath him, stretching out and resting her head against a crunchy pillow.

  Relaxed.

  Clamping her eyes shut she tensed when the doorknob rattled. Her fingers squeezed into fists at her sides. With breath held, she waited as the panel swung open. Any fool could see that she wasn’t sleeping, but she petulantly kept her eyes closed.

  “We’ll be pulling into a private port in a little over an hour,” Hawkins announced.

  “And what then?” Jack challenged from above−evidently not so relaxed.

  Her slight peek collided with Hawkins pink-eyed gaze. Rodent. To her horror he flashed her a patronizing grin. His glance swept the cabin and landed on the Wild Turkey bottle.

  “That depends on your level of cooperation,” he said. “Perhaps a little shot of bourbon has loosened your inhibitions.”

  Above her the wood creaked as Jack swung his legs off the edge and jumped down. Whoa, close-up view of one fine jean-clad ass.

  “Perhaps it has.” Jack threatened in a low voice.

  Hawkins twitched his pointer finger in the air. “It’s not wise to challenge an armed man on the open sea.”

  Livvy saw Jack’s hand fist against his thigh. “Then it’s a good thing we’re hitting land shortly.”

  Hawkins eye twitched. He patted his chest, caressing the bulky lump beneath his jacket. “I thought I might see if you had time to consider your plight, and wanted to add anything more.” His red eyes slipped down to her. “I guess I gave you too much credit.”

  “We told you what we found.” Pitching her legs off the bunk, she sat up. “I don’t know what more you want from us.”

  Hawkins regarded her indifferently, still brushing his fingers over his jacket like he was petting a cat. The scraping sound of that motion implored her to charge and gouge his pink eyes out.

  “Get some rest,” he glared at Jack and then retreated from the cabin. “We’ll be back for you shortly.”

  ***

  Olivia launched off the bed and into Jack’s arms. As much as he would relish this handful of hot woman plastered against him, he recognized her calculated move. Lifting onto her toes she touched her lips to his ear and whispered, “What do we do?”

  He clasped her slim hips in his hands. There was power there−the power that comes from clamoring in and out of boats all day−from climbing up and down piers−from hauling equipment and mastering her catches. God help him if he could ever feel that power in other, more passionate activities.

  Brushing his lips against her hair, he felt her tremble. “We either take our chances and stay with the Odyssey−”

  Beneath his lips her head shook to negate that thought.

  “−Or we make our move now. The good news is that we can’t be too far from the coast. Although, in the middle of the night with no navigation, we might as well be halfway to Ireland.”

  “I’ll take my chances with Ireland,” she murmured into his shoulder.

  Jack crooked a finger under her chin and ge
ntly lifted it to look into her eyes. So many dynamic layers lurked there. Sky blue nuances of tenderness. Azure shadows of pain−and midnight shades of passion.

  Oh, how I can get lost here.

  He dipped and traced his lips across her cheek.

  “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she expelled a warm breath.

  “Do you want me to stop kissing it?”

  A tiny sound of protest bubbled out of her throat.

  “My lips hurt a little bit, though−” she whispered.

  “Is that so?” He trailed his mouth down satiny flesh to connect with hers.

  Their kiss was poignant. It stirred life into the cavity of his chest. To feel her burrow tighter into his embrace wrought him with a fierce need to protect this woman.

  Only the urgency of their predicament plied him away from her. Still, he couldn’t help a little goading. “Do they feel better?”

  Olivia’s pupils were wide. She touched moistened lips. “Slightly.”

  For a moment she smiled, but that vivacity melted into gritty determination. He had now come to recognize the crease of her brow and the fortitude that lurked behind it.

  “We have to make our move now,” she commanded.

  She was right.

  Jack shifted towards the cabinet and stashed the bottle of water in his jacket pocket. Opening a drawer beneath the sink, he grabbed a small flashlight that was rolling around inside, praying the batteries still worked. A quick poke of his thumb produced a wan light. He jabbed that into his other pocket.

  Olivia was already lifting the bottom bunk. As soon as she had it secured he worked on the panel, dislodging it and setting it gently to the side. He shined the flashlight into the space and shook his head. It was narrower than he remembered, and further restricted by the contour of the ship itself.

  “Oh my,” Olivia murmured beside him.

  “I’ll go first and see if this is even possible. If someone comes, you close this panel and drop down the bunk.”

  “But−”

  “Olivia.” His tone was persuasive enough.

  Olivia nodded.

  With one quick touch of his lips to hers, Jack dropped his feet down into the hatch. He shimmied down between two aluminum water tanks, sliding until he could crawl beneath them. He had been down here several times in the past, tracing wiring and hose lines. There was enough room to carry down some tools and manage minor repairs and maintenance, but it was a one-way motion. There wasn’t enough room to do an about-face. He had to call up over his shoulder.