“Definitely not.” Considering her sheltered East Coast upbringing—her physician mother and architect father making sure she was exposed to only the finest members of Boston society—Sam was an anomaly. A dreamer who wasn’t caught up in the trappings of social standings or privilege. Someone who would take a chance. Even a risk. And if that didn’t work, he’d come up with Plan B.
That’s it. That’s what she needed. A Plan B. Wait a minute, first she needed a Plan A.
She took another sip, then looked over at Dimitris. “It’s settled then. As soon as it’s dark, we’re cutting these ties and getting out of here. And when we do, you’re going to find Zoe. And I’m going to find my North Star.”
“Remi?”
“What?”
“Exactly how are we getting out?”
She shifted around, eyeing the cases of soda behind them. Until this afternoon’s visit with Ilya, they’d seen only one guard at a time tasked with watching them. She hoped that arrangement wouldn’t change. “We could hit a guard over the head with one of those cases. Between the two of us, we can take him down.” She looked over at Dimitris and outlined her Plan A.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sam was heartened when he learned that Nikos’s cousin Valerios actually owned a cigarette boat and was willing to let him borrow it for the night—as long as he promised to take good care of it. About twenty minutes later, plans made, they walked out to the dock to find Valerios disembarking from the oldest, most derelict-looking cigarette boat Sam had ever seen. Sam could only stare, wondering how it could still be seaworthy.
“She is a beauty, yes?” Valerios said, his accent even thicker than Nikos’s.
“She’s definitely . . . unexpected.”
“I take the engines out and put them together myself. Good as new. Better than new.”
Judging from the shape and condition of the hull, new had to have been a good thirty or more years ago, Sam thought.
Valerios, not noticing his reaction, grinned. “Wait until you see her fly across the water. You will never believe it, I promise.”
Had the situation not been so dire, Sam might have shared in Valerios’s enthusiasm over what he could only assume was a labor of love. Anyone who knew anything about boats could surely recognize that it had been, a long, long time ago, a thing of beauty.
“Exactly how fast can she go?”
Valerios shrugged. “Eighty? Probably ninety. Who’s to say. I never go that fast. Come, come. I’ll show you.”
Sam hopped in, putting his hand on the cracked leather seat back, hoping to get a look at the engines. But before he had both feet in the boat, Valerios was turning the key. Fully expecting the engine to sputter and die, the twin engines gave a low rumble. Then they roared like a lion.
Valerios clapped Sam on the back. “Like I say, she will fly.”
* * *
—
Approaching the Mirage unnoticed in the borrowed old but well-loved cigarette boat had taken Sam far longer than he’d anticipated. The larger vessel was anchored a few miles offshore, the bow facing inland. Two guards took turns making periodic rounds before meeting up again. In the hour that Sam and Nikos had been watching them, both seemed more concerned with looking for threats coming from the island than from the open sea. To make sure their attention stayed toward the shore, Nikos enlisted a few of his friends to drive their boats in a manner that deserved scrutiny so that Sam could approach the yacht from behind.
So far it had worked, and when he was within hearing distance Sam cut the motor, allowing his boat to drift forward until he reached the swim dock at the stern of the Mirage. He tied the boat to the rail, climbed aboard, then made his way up the aft steps, coming out on an upper deck with a Jacuzzi, a bar, and plenty of plush chairs filled with colorful cushions for guests to take in the view.
Hiding behind the bar, Sam waited for the guard to make his rounds. From his observations, the guard made regular ten-minute checks on something located mid-deck on the starboard side. Anything in there warranting that sort of attention was exactly where Sam wanted to investigate first.
He waited for the man to resume his rounds. The moment it was clear, Sam crossed the deck, and headed down the stairs into a narrow hallway. After guesstimating it as the potential location on the boat to keep captives, he worked his way down the hallway checking doors until he reached the last one. It was secured with a slide-bolt lock.
He listened and, hearing nothing, slid the bolt, then partially opened the door, whispering, “Remi . . . ?”
The room was dark and Sam opened the door wider to investigate. He whispered again, “Remi.” From the corner of his eye, he saw something large and square flying down at him. The object squarely struck his head, then exploded. Cans burst out, clattering to the floor, and he right along with them. At the same time, someone came at him from the opposite direction. Dazed, his hand shot out, blocked the blow, catching Remi by her wrist, holding tight. “It’s me,” he said.
She stared in shock. “Sam?”
Dimitris threw on the lights. “Who are you?”
“It’s Sam! Sam? Sam, it’s me, Remi. You can let go.”
“Remi?” He looked from her to Dimitris, then to the open door. “Get the door closed before anyone comes down the hall. We must have made a racket.” Dimitris pulled the door shut while Remi kneeled beside him.
“Is it you? Where did you come from? It is you.”
“Geez, Remi,” Sam said, rubbing the bump on his head. “You did say the North Star.”
“Wait.” Dimitris stared. “Is this the guy from the bar?”
“I can’t believe it. Oh, where are my manners? Dimitris, this is Sam. Sam . . .”
“Really, Remi. This is no time for small talk.” Sam looked up. “Nice to meet you, Dimitris.”
“I can’t believe it. You got my call.”
“Yes, now help me up. We better get going before someone decides to investigate all this noise.”
“Sam, I can’t believe it. It’s you. The North Star. It worked.”
“Is she always like this?”
He took Remi by the hand and led her and Dimitris out. Then he bolted the door behind them, hoping that’d be enough to make the guards think their prisoners were still inside. He’d already used up too much time recovering from the attack and corralling Remi. “Okay, now, quickly and quietly,” he said, directing them to the stairs. So far, no one was coming. “To the right. All the way down, then to the right again. Hide behind the bar.”
He waited until they were safely past before he followed, rounding the corner, coming face-to-face with one of the guards.
The startled guard reached for his gun. Sam stepped in, drove his right fist into the man’s gut, then shot his left hand out, catching the guard’s hand as he frantically tried to draw his pistol. When he couldn’t free it, he headbutted Sam. The blow knocked Sam back into the bar. Blindly reaching behind him, he grasped a full bottle of alcohol. As the guard drew, Sam brought the bottle crashing against his gun hand. The weapon fell. Sam swung again, slamming him in the jaw.
He slumped to the ground, groaning, his eyes fluttering. Sam recovered the gun, then searched the guard in case he was carrying a backup weapon. Finding zip ties tucked in his pocket, he secured the man’s hands behind his back, then his feet together at the ankles. As they dragged him out of sight, he came to. Sam grabbed a washcloth from beneath the bar and shoved it into his mouth.
“Someone’s coming,” Remi whispered, ducking behind the bar with them.
Sam pressed the gun barrel against the guard’s temple, and Dimitris kneeled on his legs to keep him from moving. He struggled against them.
“I have a Plan B,” Remi said. Then, pulling a slim object from her pocket, she held it against the guard’s neck, saying something to him in Greek.
The man suddenly stilled.
As the footsteps neared, Remi pressed harder. His gaze widened.
Curious, Sam leaned over, saw Remi pressing toenail clippers against the guard’s carotid. Sam couldn’t help but smile and turned back, aiming the gun, grateful when the footsteps passed by without incident.
When it was clear, he motioned Remi and Dimitris to head down the stairs. Sam took the clippers from Remi and kept them wedged against the man’s neck, buying them precious seconds to get away. Sam waited until they were on the stairs before following them down.
“What’d you say to him?” Sam asked once they reached the lower deck.
“That I had a very sharp knife and if he made one noise, his throat wasn’t the only thing I’d cut.” She glanced at Sam as they climbed over the railing into the cigarette boat. “I let his imagination do the work.”
Dimitris untied the rope and pushed off as Sam started the engine, then immediately opened it up, full throttle. Sam hoped the old boat was up to the task, but Valerios had said that her twin inboard engines could do at least eighty miles per hour.
There was no doubting the moment their escape had been discovered. He looked back, saw the internal dock door open. Within moments, a searchlight swept across the water, over them, then backtracked, lighting up their vessel.
Sam concentrated on steering the boat.
They were midway to shore when he glanced behind him, saw the muzzle flashes coming from the speedboat chasing them. “Guns!” he shouted.
Remi and Dimitris ducked.
He drove in a zigzag pattern, worried they’d be overtaken before they reached the shore. He looked over at Remi, shouting, “How good of a swimmer are you?”
“Why?”
“A wild idea,” he called out. “You two jump off the back. I draw them away. Keep to a breaststroke. They won’t see you in the dark.”
“How?” she asked. “We’re going too fast.”
“Technique,” Sam shouted. “Not quite a back dive. More like a mummy in a coffin. Body straight, arms crossed tight on your chest, feet together. Just make sure you land on your butt and back, not your feet.”
Remi glanced over her shoulder at the heavy wake trailing after them, then at Sam, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
Dimitris took her arm. “Better than getting shot.”
She looked back at Sam. “How are you getting off?”
“After I lead them away.”
Dimitris tried guiding her to the back of the boat. When she hesitated, Sam said, “Don’t worry. You and I have a date. Wouldn’t dream of missing it.” He waited until they were in position, hoping to keep them out of view and out of the other boat’s path. He slowed to about fifty miles per hour. The two poised on the back of the boat. “Now!”
They pushed off. Sam pressed the throttle forward, steered away from them. His slower speed cost him. The Kyrils’ speedboat was gaining.
At least Remi and Dimitris were safe.
Not that he was about to give up on his own life. He lashed one of the mooring ropes around the wide-open throttle, started to tie that to the steering wheel, aiming for open water. He was going a lot faster than when they jumped. Still, what choice did he have? About to let go of the steering wheel and make for the back of the boat, he saw the red port-side lights of the Kyrils’ yacht.
A much better plan, he decided.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Remi ended up about fifteen feet behind Dimitris, finally seeing him once the wake of the passing speedboats dissipated. As Dimitris swam toward her, she looked around. They were at least two miles from shore, the lights of the city twinkling against the ink-black horizon. Turning about, she saw the two speedboats growing more distant. As much as she realized she and Dimitris needed to swim to shore, she felt tethered to the spot, treading water, while her gut twisted inside her.
Dimitris followed the direction of her gaze. “You think he’ll jump?”
“Let’s hope so.” His boat seemed to be slowing, which made her think he already had—until she saw it make a sudden turn toward the Kyrils’ yacht. They were too far away for her to see if Sam was still on the boat, but the turn was too deliberate. A barrage of bright muzzle flashes from the pursuing speedboat lit up the night sky.
Sam’s vessel continued veering toward the Mirage. It hit the swim deck, then hurtled upward, the red and green sidelights spinning like a kaleidoscope. It exploded in a blinding flash, then crashed into the water.
Remi’s gut clenched. Her limbs turned leaden, pulling her down. If Sam was in that boat, there was nothing they could do. If he wasn’t . . . they needed to get help. She forced herself to breathe evenly, trying to clear her sense of shock. “Let’s go.”
They started the long swim to shore, covering the first mile in about half an hour by her estimation. Dimitris was a strong swimmer, but paced himself to match Remi, who discovered that swimming a couple miles in a pool was a far cry from the same distance in the sea, when their only nourishment these past two days was the soda they’d found in the cabin. Each time they stopped to rest, Remi looked back, thinking about Sam.
Her only hope was when she saw the Kyril yacht pulling away. That, at least, meant they weren’t coming back for them or Sam—if he’d survived.
“He’ll be fine,” Dimitris said. “We’ll send help as soon as we reach shore.”
He started sidestroking to the north. Remi followed with a paced breaststroke. After what seemed like an eternity, Remi was certain the lights they were swimming toward seemed farther now than when they’d started. She and Dimitris stopped to rest again. She turned on her back, unable to do more than let the current carry her where it would.
“Remi?”
She didn’t have the energy to respond. Instead, she stared up at the sky, trying to find the North Star.
Sam . . .
It’ll always lead me to you.
“Remi! Look!”
She mustered enough strength to turn her head in the direction Dimitris was pointing. Either she was hallucinating, or the lights from the shore were moving in their direction. It was a moment before she realized that’s exactly what was happening. An entire flotilla of lights.
Dimitris started waving his hands, shouting in Greek, “Over here! Over here!”
Dozens of fishing boats and trawlers were heading their way. Spotlights swept across the surface, one finally landing on them as Dimitris continued waving.
Remi joined in, relief buoying her energy as the boats neared. Someone threw out a preserver. Dimitris swam to it, then brought it back to Remi.
Nikos motored up in the Asteri, hugging them both the moment they boarded. As Dimitris told his father about what they’d witnessed, Nikos’s expression turned grim. Even so, he radioed the others to start heading toward the Kyrils’ yacht.
Or rather, where it used to be.
It was long gone by the time they started searching.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The crash had been spectacular, although Sam regretted having to sacrifice the beautiful old boat.
But it had the desired effect. Kyril’s men decided to turn tail and run, rather than risk any inquiries from the unwanted attention that the explosion brought to the Mirage.
He hoped that meant Remi and Dimitris were safe. Much depended on whether or not they were picked up by one of Nikos’s friends or, since they were much closer when they’d jumped, managed to swim to shore.
Sam, on the other hand, was several miles from anywhere. He’d been swimming northeast for the past hour, not sure if he’d made much progress, trying to get to the flotilla of fishing boats heading to where the yacht had been.
Too far away to call out to them, he realized they’d be gone by the time he could get there. His only recourse was to stay put and hope that help came to him.
A good decision, it turned out.
As dawn crept in, one
of the fishermen spotted him.
Within minutes, he was pulled aboard and taken into the cabin. Someone got on the radio. A moment later, he recognized Nikos’s voice coming from it. “Fargo! We found them both. They’re fine.”
Someone led Sam to a seat, wrapped a blanket around him, brought him a hot cup of Greek coffee. It was extra strong, made with three teaspoons of sugar and two heaping teaspoons of coffee. The vary glykos warmed him immediately.
He held it between his hands, a mix of emotions coursing through him, and only one thought running through his mind.
Remi was safe.
* * *
—
Within a half hour, Sam rejoined Nikos on the Asteri, where Remi and Dimitris were waiting. Both had showered and were dressed in borrowed clothes from the crew, Remi’s far too large, the cuffs on her pants and shirt rolled up several times to accommodate her.
Though it was a far cry from the color-coordinated wardrobe he’d seen hanging in her closet, he thought she looked perfect. Even more so when she smiled, and gave him a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
“Remi, I told you the North Star will always lead me to you.”
She wrapped her arms around him and he drew her close. This time the kiss lingered, but ended far sooner than either of them would have liked.
Nikos held up a bottle of ouzo and four ice-filled glasses. “Sit, Fargo. It’s time to celebrate.” He poured the clear liquid into each glass, then took a small bottle of water, topping each. The moment the water hit the ouzo, it turned from clear to milky white. He lifted his glass in a toast. “Whatever the reason, I’m very glad you came. I thank you for my son’s life. For Remi’s life. For surviving, yourself.”
“Hear! Hear!” Dimitris and Remi joined in.
Sam sipped the alcohol, the taste of licorice heavy on his tongue as he set his glass on the table. As much as he wanted to relax, there were too many questions that needed answers. “I’m all for celebrating, but does anyone have any idea why they came after the two of you?”
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