Stranded with the Captain

by Sharon Hartley

  Certain she’d been shot, she tried to locate the wound on her body. But everything hurt.

  “Cat.”

  She knew the voice had to be Javi’s. Strange, though. It didn’t sound like him.

  She closed her eyes in relief when she was finally able to suck in a breath.

  Javi knelt at her side.

  “Are you hit?” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

  “I don’t know.” After a couple of deep breaths, she opened her eyes. God, it was dark. “No, I don’t think so.”

  He helped her sit up, supporting her shoulders with his arm. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not sure about anything.”

  He smoothed a tangle of wet hair away from her face. Their gazes locked, and she read worry in his. Warmth entered her cheeks. The tough FBI agent had been frightened for her.

  “Did you hit your head when you fell?” he asked.

  She raised her palms, certain the skin had been flayed away, but they were too filthy to tell. Instinct had made her use her arms to protect her skull. “No.”

  Now that it was over, she was mortified by her wild flight. What had come over her? But she knew. The terror she’d been repressing for too long had finally won the battle.

  “Can you get up?” he asked.

  She released a breath. “Give me a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need,” he said, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. “We’re out of range here.”

  She smiled at him. “Since when did you get so nice, Captain Bligh?”

  He returned her smile. “I can be nice.”

  “That’s true,” she said, remembering some especially nice moments from a few hours ago. “You definitely can.”

  He chuckled softly.

  She stared back down the path, spotting the root that had likely ended her frantic run. “Sorry. All I could think about was getting away from the gunfire.”

  “When you went down, I thought you’d been shot,” he said, his voice husky.

  “So did I. And then I realized I just tripped.” Clumsy Cat.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Are you sure the engine won’t work?” she asked, wiping her muddy hands on her T-shirt, which did no good since the shirt was just as filthy. So were her legs.

  “I’m sure,” he said.

  “Could they tie the lines back together and raise the sails?”

  “Sailing puts too much pressure on a knot. They’d have to splice the rope, which takes time and serious practice.”

  She nodded. “And we have the dinghy.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s still the emergency inflatable.”

  “But they don’t know about that,” she said.

  “Yet.”

  And then it hit her. “We did it, didn’t we?”

  He smiled back, his teeth white in the dark. “Yes, we did.”

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, again smearing mud from her hands onto her T-shirt.

  “Believe it. And you did great, Cat.”

  She looked away with a disgusted sigh. “Until I tried to saw through the boom and ruined everything.”

  He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Hey. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded, relieved he didn’t chastise her for her mistake, and realized that wasn’t his style—unlike her parents, who would have criticized her immediately and would remark on her error for weeks.

  Javi really was a pretty nice guy.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “One thing for sure,” she said. “I should get my ass out of this mud.”

  “Can you stand?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Let me help you up.”

  Before she could respond, Javi had lifted her to her feet. She looked down at herself and shook her head. She was a total mess—her legs splattered with dirt, her T-shirt caked with muck and debris.

  “You know what I want?” she said, picking a wet leaf from her leg.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “A hot shower.”

  He grinned. “You know that’s not in the brochure.”

  “I’ll have to be more careful where I charter from now on.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, the amenities on this cruise are far from acceptable.”

  “But the crew provides other perks,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her in a leer.

  “Right. There’s nothing like a romantic moonlight swim.”

  “Hey. Don’t forget the cookout on the beach.”

  “Which lacked a guitar to sing along to.”

  “So you wanted karaoke?” he asked with a laugh, the sound light and soothing, a welcome balm to her ears. Hell, to her whole psyche.

  She joined in his laughter, which somehow cut the tension, providing a release of sorts.

  “Some charterers are so demanding there’s just no pleasing them,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  “You’ll get filthy,” she squeaked in protest.

  “Another perk provided by the intrepid crew of Spree,” he said. He hugged her tight against him. “Mud wrestling.”

  “You know, I’ve always wanted to try mud wrestling,” she said.

  “Let me hold you,” he said softly. “Just for a few minutes.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.” She snuggled into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. How could Javi make her feel safe in the middle of this disaster?

  She closed her eyes and allowed herself the moment wrapped securely in his embrace. “There’s another path that’ll take us to the beach far enough away that we’ll be out of the pirates’ view,” he said. “We can clean up there and still keep an eye on Spree.”

  She was sorry when he released her. She sighed. As pleasant as this interlude might be, they had more work to do.

  Phase one of the captain’s plan had worked, but Joan and Debbie remained in jeopardy.

  They still needed to rescue her friends.

  * * *

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the beach, Javi looked to Spree where lights now blazed inside the cabin. From this distance, no one would know anything was amiss aboard what looked to be another cruising yacht resting peacefully on her anchor.

  But the pirates were up and probably in a rage. Would they take their fury out on Joan and Deb?

  Beside him, Cat also looked toward the boat far to their north. He looked her over for injury, suspecting the fall would leave bruises at the very least. He hoped not.

  Thank God she hadn’t been killed.

  When he saw her go down, he’d felt a pain in his gut as if he’d been shot again. Damn if it hadn’t hurt just as bad, too.

  Which was crazy, illogical. He’d known that because of the distance she couldn’t have been hit.

  Apparently when it came to this woman, logic never played a part in his thinking.

  And when had he ever laughed in the middle of an op? But that crazy few seconds of release felt good. He ought to do it more often.

  They needed to discuss the next part of his plan, but not quite yet. She needed time to recover.

  “We’re out of range here,” he told her, hoping to alleviate her fears. Right now he’d give her the world, if he could.

  Without speaking, she waded into the gently breaking waves, keeping her gaze on the distant Spree with each step. When waist-deep, she removed her T-shirt and lowered herself into the water and began using the cotton material as a sponge to rinse the filth from her skin.

  Javi followed her into the warm ocean. He cupped salt water in his hands and washed himself by splashing it on his skin.

 
Cat scrubbed her T-shirt between her hands to remove the dirt, then trailed it through the water. After a while she shrugged and, apparently satisfied, dropped the shirt over her head again.

  He came behind her and locked his arms around her waist. She relaxed her weight against him, a sign that she now trusted him, which was troubling. Maybe she shouldn’t. Her friends were still in danger.

  “It’s hard to believe Spree can look so normal,” she said.

  “That’s what the pirates are relying on.” And that was his credo: appearances could be deceiving.

  “Do you think the pirates have figured out what we did?” she asked.

  “They know the lines are cut and the dinghy is gone.”

  “What about the prop?”

  “They suspect something is wrong.”

  She rested her hands on his arms. “Will they still wait for daybreak to make an attempt to leave?”

  “I’ve been wondering about that,” he said. “I don’t know.”

  “What would you do?” she asked after a long pause.

  “I wouldn’t wait.”

  “Me, either,” she said. “I’d have to know if something was wrong with the boat.”

  “But they might be high,” Javi said. “Not thinking clearly.”

  “Could we hear the diesel from here?”

  “I think so.”

  Cat turned in his embrace, placing her cheek on his chest. She shivered.

  He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Cold?”

  “No. I’m thinking about Joan and Deb.”

  His focus still on Spree, he said, “Yeah, me, too.”

  “They have to know something is up.”

  He nodded. Cat’s friends must have heard the gunfire. They were likely terrified all over again because of the raid on Spree.

  “Will the pirates punish them for what we did?” Cat asked.

  He couldn’t lie. At this point, she deserved to know the truth. She’d earned it. But what was the truth? He honestly didn’t know.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “I can’t imagine how scared they must be.”

  “We’ll save them, Cat.”

  “Or die trying?” she asked. She tried to make her voice light, another joke, but couldn’t quite pull it off.

  “We’re not going to die.”

  She raised her head. “Thanks,” she whispered, her gaze intent on his.

  “For what?”

  She shrugged. “For being who you are.”

  Raising high on her toes, she settled her hands on his shoulders and lightly kissed his lips.

  He crushed her against him, turning her sweet thank-you into something far more intense. Breathing hard, he pulled back and placed his forehead against hers. She took in a deep, shuddering breath.

  When this cluster-disaster was finally over, he’d take his time with Cat, show her how he felt about her. He felt himself smile. In a real bed. A large one with soft, clean-smelling sheets. She deserved that. Maybe some room service with hot food.

  He raised his head at the growl of a motor in the distance.

  Spree’s diesel had turned over.

  The pirates had decided to leave.

  * * *

  CAT STEPPED AWAY from Javi, her gaze focused on Spree. The bow now faced toward land and inched through the water in that direction. Was that a figure on the foredeck?

  “What are they doing?” she asked.

  “They want to pull up the anchor,” he said. “Which won’t be easy without the diesel to take off the strain.”

  “But Spree is moving.” Wishing she had binocs, she shot a glance at Javi, who stared toward Spree.

  “They’re pulling on the anchor rode,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go back to the dinghy so we can see better.”

  She followed him as he jogged toward the mangroves, expecting him to enter the vegetation for cover. He didn’t. He remained on the beach but close to the tree line.

  “Aren’t we going back through the trail?” she asked.

  “The pirates’ attention is elsewhere right now. We’ll be safe.”

  Cat tried to maintain his pace, but slogging through sand was never easy, and she was already drained. Javi, however, seemed full of energy and itching to be closer to Spree so he could better determine what was happening aboard.

  He looked back at her with a frown.

  “Go ahead,” she told him, slowing to a fast walk. “I’ll catch up.”

  He hesitated, then nodded and resumed running, but always remained within her sight. As she moved, focused on Javi’s back, she realized she could see the outline of the mangroves to her right more clearly. The night was steadily growing lighter.

  It was almost dawn. The sun would be up soon.

  Would that help them or hurt them?

  By the time she arrived at the dinghy, Spree had moved enough that the yacht looked to be right on top of the anchor. Cat crouched beside Javi. He nodded at her, and she returned her gaze to Spree.

  One of the pirates stood at the wheel. The other leaned over the bow, tugging on the line attached to the anchor. Neither Joan nor Debbie was in view.

  The dread in her belly kicked into gear again. Cat heard a shout from one of the men, but couldn’t tell which over the steady rumbling of Spree’s engine.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered.

  “They haven’t yet realized they can’t control the helm,” Javi whispered back.

  Another shout. With the light now brighter, Cat focused on the man on the foredeck. He gripped a chain, slowly pulling it out of the ocean, hand over hand. The anchor broke clear of the water and dangled, swaying and dripping water. She feared a sharp hook would bang into the boat, but the pirate finally heaved the anchor onto the deck with a crash hard enough to punch a hole in the fiberglass.

  Beside her, Javi winced.

  “Poor Spree,” Cat murmured.

  “If that’s the only damage,” Javi said, “we’ll be lucky.”

  The sailboat slowly drifted away from them.

  The pirate at the wheel cursed. He spun the wheel first one way and then other, but it was obvious to Cat he had no control over Spree’s motion.

  It would soon become obvious to the pirates, as well.

  The man on the foredeck joined the man at the wheel. Angry voices echoed over the water as they argued.

  What would control the direction that Spree floated? She hadn’t noticed a current while snorkeling. Certainly nothing as strong as the Gulf Stream.

  “Bad luck the tide is going out,” Javi said in a low voice.

  “Which means what?”

  “The boat will drift away from shore with it. They’ll run aground before long unless they’re in the channel.”

  She nodded. That made sense. “You’d rather them drift toward us?”

  “That would force the matter quicker. And probably do less damage to Spree. She’s not insured.”

  “What?” Cat asked, shooting Javi a glance. Wasn’t Spree his friend’s home? “Why not?”

  “Let’s just say Marlin is a free spirit.”

  Cat shook her head and redirected her focus on Spree. The boat’s progress was slow, but she appeared to be meandering farther away from the island.

  “Couldn’t they control their direction with the rudder?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He turned to her and smiled. “You really are a natural sailor, aren’t you, Cat?”

  Her face warmed under his praise. “I don’t know about that.”

  Wishing she could see more clearly in the dim morning light, Cat watched the two men argue while they tried to make the wheel work. She knew they were shouting, but couldn’t understand what they said over the diesel.

>   Then one of the men disappeared below deck.

  Javi cursed. “I don’t like the looks of this.”

  “What?” Cat asked.

  When Javi didn’t answer, she looked at him. A muscle worked in the side of his clenched jaw.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  She refocused on Spree and gasped.

  Joanie stood in the cockpit.

  Cat choked back a sob as the pirates shoved Joan forward, making her stumble. She grabbed the wheel to keep herself upright, then clutched her elbows, head down, listening to whatever the men were yelling at her.

  Joan shook her head, probably denying she knew anything about the malfunctioning diesel.

  More shouting. The pirates wanted Joan to do something, thought she should know how to control the boat.

  But of course she was of no help at all. No one knew Spree didn’t have a propeller.

  “At least she’s alive,” Javi said.

  She shot him a look. “But for how long?”

  “As long as they think she can help them.”

  “And when she can’t?” Cat demanded, returning her focus to the nightmare in Spree’s cockpit. “What happens then?”

  Javi didn’t reply.

  One of the pirates slapped Joanie’s face hard enough to send her to her knees.

  Cat came to her feet, but didn’t realize it until Javi pulled her back down behind the dinghy.

  “You can’t help her,” he said. “Stay hidden. This was our plan.”

  “Our plan will get Joan killed,” Cat said.

  “Wait. Let it play out,” Javi said.

  “No,” Cat insisted. “We have to do something now.”

  “What?” he asked. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “I don’t know,” she spit out, wanting to throw something, although she wasn’t sure at whom. “You’re the FBI agent.”

  She glanced to the boat and would have risen again but for the bruising grip Javi had on her arm.

  One of the pirates raised a gun and pointed it at Joan’s head.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  JAVI LEAPED TO his feet when he saw the weapon. He had to do something.

  But any action he took would get him shot and likely wouldn’t save Joan.

  Still... Cat was right. He couldn’t let the pirates shoot Joan without even trying something. Anything.