“Sound travels over the water,” she insisted, her voice still quiet.
“Yeah, but if the pirates are awake and able to hear us, we’re done before we start.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “Wouldn’t the storm have woken them up? I don’t see how anybody could sleep through that thunder.”
“Probably.” He gazed in the direction the storm had traveled. He could no longer see any lingering signs of the gale. “But it’s been over for several hours. Hopefully, they’ve settled back down.”
“Right,” she said.
He heard the false bravado in her voice. Hell, he had doubts, too.
“Last chance to abort.” He searched her face. “We could go back to the lighthouse and wait.”
“No,” she said, clenching her hands into fists. “Just tell me what to do.”
“You’re sure, Cat? This isn’t a game, and I know you’re scared.”
She met his gaze. “You said no arguments, remember?”
“All right.” He returned his focus to Spree. “Hold your breath and swim under water as much as possible. That will make the least noise.”
“Okay.”
“Let me disable the prop before you do anything. If they still have a motor, there’s no sense in you risking climbing on board.”
“I understand,” she said.
“While I dive, grab ahold somewhere on the hull and don’t make any noise.”
She nodded once.
“When I’m done with the propeller, I’ll work on detaching the dinghy while you cut the lines.”
He released a frustrated breath, but there was no help for it now. No way to alter the course of events they’d set out on. Could she succeed? Be quiet enough not to rouse the pirates?
Could he?
He’d get in position, wait until she’d severed the lines and then take the dinghy.
No denying the fact that with her help, they’d get clear much faster, thus less chance of being discovered.
“You have the knife, right?” he asked.
Soundlessly, she showed him the mesh bag hung around her neck.
“Are you ready?”
She shook her head and smiled.
“Cat, maybe—”
She pressed her lips against his, silencing his thought. The kiss was quick, delicate, tender.
“For luck,” she whispered. Then she rose, stepped over a mangrove root and hurried down to the edge of the water.
Javi made the sign of the cross on his chest, something he hadn’t done since his brother had been murdered, and followed her.
* * *
WHEN CAT REACHED the water’s edge, she didn’t hesitate. Better to make the plunge quick, like ripping off a bandage.
She tensed as she stepped into a gentle wave, steeling herself for cold water.
Instead, she found the ocean warmer than the night air. Sand slid from beneath her foot as the wave receded. Trying not to splash, she carefully waded toward Spree, making barely a ripple until the water reached her waist.
Javi appeared beside her, surprising her since she hadn’t heard him enter the ocean. How had he managed that? Her dive mask sat on top of his head. He’d squeezed his feet into her fins to enable him to kick beneath the boat quicker, hold himself in position longer.
He nodded at her, lowered the mask and dove beneath the surface, again without a sound. She stared after him, looking for any trace of his path.
Now she was alone. Behind her, the waves lapped against the shore.
You can do this, Cat.
She took a deep breath, focused on the boat—which seemed a long way away—and submerged. She didn’t want to open her eyes, knowing the salt water would sting, but Javi needed the mask to work on the prop.
She swam as far as she could manage before her lungs screamed for air. Surfacing as quietly as possible, she inhaled and dove again. And again. And again, losing track of how many times she repeated the process. With every breath, Spree grew closer. Each time she surfaced, she opened her eyes to check her position and confirm no activity on the boat.
She searched for any sign of Javi, but never saw him.
Surfacing silently, she again sucked in needed oxygen, this time treading water. Her arms ached from the swim, but she was close. Spree’s white hull loomed maybe fifty feet away in the dark water. All it would take is one or two more breaths.
Where was Javi? She still didn’t spot him, but with the fins, he would complete the swim much quicker. Maybe he’d already started on the prop. Had they discussed that? She couldn’t remember.
When she made her last dive, she kept her eyes open so she could spot her target. But she’d misjudged the distance. Spree was farther away than she realized. Her lungs burned, but finally the ladder was within reach. She grabbed ahold and broke the water to breathe. Her eyes stung but all she cared about was the sweet oxygen filling her lungs.
A head surfaced beside her, the face covered by a mask.
Javi. Thank God.
She’d known he’d be all right, but the proof made her weak with relief.
He raised a finger to his mouth, signaling her not to speak. His eyes blazed at her through the plastic shield.
She nodded.
He indicated his chest with a jerk of his thumb and then motioned down. He mouthed, “Wait.”
She nodded again, and then he submerged so quietly she could almost believe he hadn’t been there.
Wrapping both arms around the ladder’s aluminum poles, she closed her eyes, listening hard for any sounds from below, praying she didn’t hear any. How many breaths would it take him?
Was it truly even possible for Javi to remove the propeller of Spree’s motor underwater while holding his breath? Without making any noise? She shivered. It sounded like a hopeless task.
What if he dropped the wrench? Could he retrieve it from the bottom? How could he in the dark?
Stop it, Cat. He won’t drop it.
She released a breath, and realized her body temperature had lowered. She hadn’t been chilled during the long swim, but if she dangled from the ladder motionless for too long, hypothermia might set in. Well, maybe not hypothermia, but she didn’t want to get cold again. She began pumping her legs through the water, careful not to splash.
She heard a swift intake of air close by. Javi had surfaced.
She swiveled her head to find him, but only spotted the barest of ripples where he’d been. She inhaled deeply and tried not to think. Just wait.
He surfaced several more times, then dove again.
From this position, she couldn’t hear anything, but would his efforts echo through the interior of Spree? Would Joan and Debbie hear him? Would the pirates notice and investigate?
Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she turned her thoughts away from that path.
How were her friends? Had they been raped? Beaten?
She squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to stay positive.
Be careful what you wish for.
She opened her eyes as the old saying again slammed into her thoughts. She’d wanted something different, a change from her boring life. But this was definitely not what she had in mind.
Javi surfaced again, and dog-paddled back to the ladder.
Her hopes shot skyward. Had he succeeded? Just as quickly, her mood plummeted. If so, it was time for her to climb on board Spree. She’d promised she could be silent as she cut the lines. Could she?
She longed to ask what was going on, but didn’t dare speak any words aloud.
He shook his head, and that was her answer.
Holding on beside her, Javi inhaled deeply several times, and she understood he’d needed to rest and oxygenate his blood.
And then he was gone again.
Cat mentally reviewed how she would cut the lines that controlled the sails. The jib lines would be easy as they threaded back to the winch in the cockpit. Or anyway, that was the way she and Javi had left them. Why would the pirates have made a change? The mainsail worried her, though. Would she have to step out of the cockpit and go up to the mast? No matter how carefully she trod, the pirates would hear her footsteps overhead. There had to be another way.
She visualized how the mainsail attached to the boom and realized she could make the cut there.
Was her knife sharp enough? They’d used it to dismember conch.
An arm snaked out of the water and grabbed onto the ladder beside her. Javi shot out of the water, gasping for air. She closed her eyes, willing him to be quiet. He was making too much noise.
Breathing heavily, he wrapped both arms around the ladder and leaned the mask against one metal step.
They dangled beside each other until his breathing returned to normal.
He raised his head and nodded. Her stomach clenched. It was now time to do her part.
He pushed the dive mask on top of his head and looked at her, a question in his eyes. She gave him a thumbs-up.
He moved aside. She pulled herself directly in front of the ladder, grasping its sides with both hands. She placed her right foot on the first step and transferred her weight as carefully as possible so as not to rock the boat. She climbed the ladder one slow step at a time until the cockpit came into view.
She dropped into a crouch. The companionway leading below stood wide open. She’d assumed they would close it to keep out bugs.
She could see straight into the cabin—which meant the pirates could see her.
But they hadn’t. She took a deep breath. Or else she’d be dead.
Her heart hammering inside her chest, she pulled herself up and looked again. What she could see of the inside of the cabin was a wreck. Garbage everywhere. Dirty dishes. The cooler wide-open.
But no pirate was visible. Neither were her friends. Where was everybody? Hopefully asleep in the bunks.
She looked back to Javi, holding on to the ladder below her, waiting for her to move so he could start work on the dinghy. He jerked his chin at her, telling her to move, no doubt wondering about her hesitation.
He probably thought she was losing her nerve. Was she?
She sucked in another breath and focused on the starboard winch. The jib sheet remained looped around its circumference, exactly the way they’d left it.
She stepped into the cockpit, cringing at the squishy sound her soaked shoes made on the fiberglass deck. Another two careful steps and she was beside the starboard winch.
She listened hard. No sounds from below.
She pulled the knife from the sheath in the bag around her neck and sawed through the rope. Done.
The end attached to the sail fell away with a soft thump when it hit the deck.
Cat tensed.
Still nothing from the cabin.
She carefully moved to the port winch and repeated the process, this time preventing the line from falling. Done.
At a noise behind her, she whirled, raising the knife. Javi had climbed inside the dinghy. The small boat swung from his motion.
He met her gaze and made a whirling signal with his hand.
He was telling her to hurry up.
She lowered the knife. Aye, aye, Captain.
After a furtive look to the cabin, she refocused on the boom where the mainsail lay furled inside its protective blue cover. Javi had insisted they cover the sail every time they used it no matter what. Now she understood why he was such a stickler for the rules.
She picked a spot—what did it matter where?—and sawed. This braided rope was much thicker, harder to cut. And her muscles were already fatigued from the swim.
She cast a quick look behind her. Working soundlessly, Javi was doing something to lower the dink.
When she finally broke through, her blade hit the metal boom with a harsh clang. She froze. Her gut cramped at a noise below deck.
A voice.
She stared into the cabin and saw movement.
She’d screwed up.
Someone had heard her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JAVI HEARD THE metallic clink echo through the night air as clearly a bell tolling. An alarm clock for the bad guys.
But maybe the pirates were so sound asleep they wouldn’t hear.
And then he heard a questioning voice. They’d heard, all right.
He and Cat were out of time.
And she would be the first to die.
A door slammed below, followed by a coarse oath.
She threw him a wild look, holding her knife awkwardly in the air. Their gazes met, and time stopped moving. Not again.
Then Cat resheathed her knife and dived into the water with a soft splash, disappearing beneath the darkness. Good girl.
He felt a rush of relief but heard another shout from below.
With no time now to do this slowly and quietly, he jerked the locking mechanism on the davit chain. Old metal groaned, released. The dinghy dropped fast.
He dove off before the dink crashed into the water, losing his mask when he went below the surface.
Salt water stung his eyes, but he groped for the dink’s line, found it and swam underwater, towing the boat behind him, thankful he hadn’t removed the fins, which had been awkward while working in the dinghy.
Gunshots rang out. Were they shooting at him or Cat?
It was slow going dragging the boat, but he could use it as a shield when he needed to resurface and breathe.
Cat didn’t have anything for cover except darkness. Were these pirates smart enough to locate Spree’s spotlight? If so, they could easily use it to sweep the ocean and search.
How far could she get before she needed to break the water for air? They might spot her even without the light.
He never should have allowed her to come. How had he let her convince him?
More gunshots, and they weren’t anywhere close to him. Probably because they didn’t want to hit the dink.
Where the hell was Cat?
For all he knew, she could already be dead or drowning.
And he couldn’t get to her.
God, it was happening again. And it was worse this time. He didn’t have the excuse of being a kid. Now he knew better.
Suddenly the drag of the boat seemed lighter. What the—
He looked behind him. A slim figure held on to the line with him, helping him tow the boat to the beach. Cat.
He stopped swimming and stared at her. She gave him a thumbs-up, appearing unhurt.
Smart girl. She’d found him in the dark. Now they both could use the boat for cover when they needed to breathe.
He felt like laughing as he and Cat resumed their slow progress to shore. A shot hissed into the water ahead of them. So the pirates decided to shoot at the dinghy, anyway. Stupid. They needed the dink more than he and Cat did.
Damn if phase one of their plan hadn’t succeeded. It’d been the best strategy he could come up with given limited resources, and there’d been no guarantee any of it would work. Beyond all odds, though, it had.
No way were the bad guys going anywhere in a very disabled Spree.
The big question now was what would happen to Joan and Debbie. Would the pirates come ashore like he assumed? The emergency inflatable remained on board and they could use that to get away, if they found it. The women knew about it, and would give it up if asked.
So what would these guys do now? Flee? Come ashore?
His analysis of the pirates was sketchy at best, based on information from customs and an old friend. The intel could be totally inaccurate. Prob
ably had huge holes in it. Could the pirates be so enraged by what had gone down, they’d shoot their hostages? He didn’t think so, but they might if high on anything.
No matter what he’d assured Cat, he feared these pirates were as likely to shoot the women he’d abandoned on Spree as not.
* * *
CAT HEAVED A sob of relief when her feet touched solid ground. She sucked in huge gulps of air, supporting her weight on the dinghy. Javi dragged the small boat out of her grasp, toward the beach. She resumed tugging on the line until the boat crunched onto sand. Unable to take another step, she dropped to her knees.
Her legs felt like jelly. Her shoulders ached. She’d moved beyond exhausted to some weird sort of numbness.
A shot rang out, thudding into the sand maybe fifty feet away.
She flattened. A wave rolled over her, pushing salt water over her chin and into her mouth.
“We need to get off the beach,” Javi barked.
She raised her head and spit out sand. He’d pulled the dinghy high on the beach, out of the wave action.
She didn’t want to stand up. That would present her back as a bull’s-eye for the pirates. Could they see the beach in the darkness? Did their guns have that much range? The flesh between her shoulders twitched.
“Come on, Cat,” Javi shouted. “Move your ass.”
Another gunshot. Closer this time.
She had to move. She couldn’t remain stretched out here forever. Javi was waiting for her, wouldn’t move to safety until she did.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get up?
She focused on the mangroves. Had they always been so far away? With a curse, she pushed herself to a crouch and ran, expecting the sharp stab of a bullet in her back any second.
When she entered the edge of the vegetation, she didn’t stop. She found the trail and kept running, wanting to get as far away from the beach and gunfire as possible.
“Cat, stop,” Javi yelled. He sounded somewhere close behind her.
She turned to look, tripped on a root and went flying. She slammed into the wet ground and slid through mud and debris, skinning her palms on something sharp. The fall knocked the wind out of her. Stunned, she lay in the muck unable to catch a breath.
Stranded with the Captain Page 17
