by Lynn Patrick
“You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” Jenkins asked, his tone desperate. “These waters are shark-infested!”
So much for her ideas about swimming to land, Caitlin thought, trying not to shudder.
“Perhaps the sharks will loosen your tongue.”
“Please! I only know what Nevison tells me. He’s the one you want,” Jenkins told his captors, his nasal voice rising with panic. “He’s the only one who knows anything about our operations.”
The air inside the locker was becoming stifling, Caitlin thought, now barely listening to the conversation. She was beginning to feel like a pretzel. How long would the men stay in the cabin?
Caitlin was relieved when she realized that Bryce was putting Jenkins in the custody of one of his men and ordering that Nevison be found. Maybe that meant they’d all leave the cabin soon, and then she could breathe some fresh air once more. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic. The back of her throat was dry, and her nose was beginning to burn like crazy.
“Why don’t we search this cabin while we’re waiting for Nevison?” the smooth-voiced pirate suggested, dashing Caitlin’s hopes. “There may be something important here.”
“I doubt searching will do any good, Anselm, but it’s worth a try,” Bryce returned. “I’ll look through the desk. You check the shelves.”
Greedy bastards! Caitlin thought. Surely the treasure they sought was contained in the boxes the men who captured her had brought on board. Why couldn’t Bryce and this Anselm just leave? Distracted by the urge to sneeze, she untwisted one arm from around her body and carefully slipped her hand toward her tingling nose.
“Won’t our quarry be bloody angry when he hears we’ve taken another of his vessels?”
She tried not to breathe as she inched her hand toward her face.
“He’ll be livid, Anselm. But I plan to take everything from him. He’ll be lucky if I leave him his hide. He’ll curse the day he ever heard the name Winslow.”
Almost, Caitlin thought, desperately pressing her fingers to her nose. But it was already too late. All she succeeded in doing was distorting the sound.
“Uh-chloo!”
“What the hell was that?”
“A stowaway, Captain?” Anselm said from beside the locker. “Let’s see.”
Caitlin’s body thumped painfully against the locker as her hiding place was pushed over and its side suddenly became its bottom. The lid popped open, and she found herself spilling unceremoniously at Bryce’s feet. Looking up the length of his boots to his bearded visage, she tried not to cower. She couldn’t help cringing, however, when his laugh rang out through the room and he pulled her up roughly by the wrist.
“Well, if it isn’t Caitlin O’Connor!” Bryce boomed, his deep voice rich with amusement as his sea-green eyes scanned her thoroughly disheveled form. “I told you I’d see you again, though I admit I never would have thought you’d be at such a disadvantage,” he said, touching a tear in the lace above her breasts.
“L-let go of me!” Caitlin cried through chattering teeth as she unsuccessfully tried to pull herself free.
“She looks dangerous, Captain. You’d better make sure she hasn’t got any weapons.”
That’s when Caitlin first saw the man called Anselm, a tall, muscular black man who grinned at her, his white teeth gleaming through his short-cropped beard.
“Weapons?” she echoed weakly. But before she could protest further, Bryce was already searching her, skimming her breasts, spanning her waist, probing the fullness of her skirts. “How dare you!” she choked out, ineffectively slapping at his prying hands. “You…you pirate!”
Bryce laughed again, ignoring her physical maneuverings while he concluded the search quickly and efficiently, ending with one hand in her pocket. The delicate material of her dress ripped once more as he pulled out a folded piece of paper. Jean’s note!
“What have we here?” Bryce unfolded the missive and quickly scanned it. His eyebrow rose, and his lips tightened into a thin line barely visible in his beard. “Well, well, a love note from our friend Moreau.”
Bryce looked decidedly wary that she’d received a note from the landlord of Hibiscus. Was he afraid of Moreau? Perhaps she could bluff her way off the boat this time, Caitlin thought.
“Yes, Moreau. Jean is waiting for me, and he’ll be concerned if I don’t return soon.”
“Good.”
Caitlin frowned and added a note of urgency to her voice. “But he’ll come after me.”
“He’s on land and we’re at sea. How do you propose he’ll launch this rescue of his soiled little dove?”
Bryce’s insulting tone and intimation of her relationship with the Frenchman raised her hackles, and Caitlin was hard-pressed not to kick the man. But she’d been slapped earlier, she remembered, and she didn’t want to chance getting hurt again. Calmly she said, “Why, he’ll come after me on his boat, of course.”
“We’re on Moreau’s boat, as you well know. Any others he has didn’t seem to be around yesterday.”
Moreau’s boat? The first set of pirates must have stolen it, and now Bryce and his men had stolen it a second time in the same night.
“But perhaps you can tell us more about Moreau’s other vessels?” Anselm suggested, coming closer. Caitlin tried not to show her fright as he continued the interrogation while stroking the handle of a knife projecting from his belt. “Like how many he owns and where he keeps them harbored. What his plans are for the next week…”
The way the huge black man loomed over her made Caitlin’s skin crawl. Realizing that she’d made a mistake in using the threat of Jean Moreau coming to her rescue, she turned from one bearded man to the other, trying to convey her dismay. Had she expected to find more understanding in Bryce’s expression than in Anselm’s, however, she was sorely disappointed. He seemed about to do some questioning of his own.
But just as Bryce opened his mouth to speak, one of his men burst through the cabin door.
“Captain Winslow, that Nevison guy is topside. He was knocked out in the scuffle, but he’s coming to. You still want us to bring him down here?”
“No. Anselm, check out Nevison. I’ll stay here to chat further with our charming stowaway.”
Giving her one last, appraising glare, Anselm followed the other seaman. He had to stoop to get his great bulk through the doorway.
Feeling far less fearful now that the hulking islander had left, Caitlin decided to take the offensive before Bryce could continue the interrogation. “Why do you assume I know anything of value to you?”
“Because men have been known to tell pretty women everything about themselves,” he returned. “How easy it would be to give away valuable information when enticed by a pair of delicate arms.”
Caitlin remembered that Bryce had seen Jean kiss her the day before. She also remembered how he’d taken her in his own arms later that evening. Unfortunately it now seemed that Bryce merely had been trying to get information, and she’d been fool enough to think that he’d been attracted to her. But if she brought up his low tactics, he’d only laugh at her again.
“If you want the truth,” Caitlin said tightly, “I was bluffing before. I’m hardly acquainted with Jean Moreau. I’m merely a guest at his resort. I can’t tell what I don’t know.”
“Really?” Bryce’s eyes hardened. “Then why did you lock yourself in Moreau’s cabin?”
“The men on this boat brought me on board by force. They locked me in here.”
“And you had no way of getting out.”
“No,” Caitlin said impatiently. “They weren’t gracious enough to supply me with the key.”
Bryce took a step toward the desk and lifted a key from the midst of papers littering its surface. “This was right here on top when I searched the desk a few minutes ago. You could have used it to get out at any time.”
“I—I didn’t see it,” Caitlin croaked. Why couldn’t she have been clever enough to search for a key in the cabin? “
Or I would have been long gone before you got here.”
“Pardon me if I don’t believe you. Now, why don’t you cooperate and give me the information I need about Moreau’s operations?”
“I told you I don’t know anything.” Caitlin screwed up her courage and said haughtily, “May I remind you, I’m a citizen of the United States. You’re breaking international law by detaining me, so I demand that you return me to Hibiscus Island at once!”
“As soon as you tell me everything you know, I’ll set you free.”
“Pardon me if I don’t believe you,” Caitlin said, echoing Bryce’s own words.
“Suit yourself. I have plenty of time. You’ll tire of my company soon enough.”
Alarmed now, Caitlin demanded, “What does that mean?”
“Very simply put, it means that you’re coming with me.”
Grabbing her by the wrist, Bryce hauled Caitlin toward the cabin’s door as easily as if she were cooperating, which she definitely was not. She was dragging her heels and pulling away from him, and though he wasn’t a man who took pleasure in hurting women, he was determined to hang on to her until she decided to talk.
“Stop fighting me.”
“I wouldn’t have to fight if you’d let go of me!” she yelled as he dragged her all the way up to the deck. “You’re nothing but a bully and a…a…”
“Pirate?” he added grimly, ignoring a few of his men who stood staring at their captain in amazement. “No need to repeat yourself. I know what you think of me.” Pulling Caitlin tightly against him so that his body couldn’t help but respond to the touch of hers, Bryce said, “Now, are you ready to give me the information I need?”
“No!”
Hearing a snicker from one of the men, Bryce ordered through gritted teeth, “Then shut up!”
He continued to pull her along. When he got Caitlin to the opening in the starboard rail, however, the fight suddenly seemed to go out of her. His ship was tied to the boat both fore and aft, but as the two vessels rocked with the waves, a gap widened between them.
Bryce could feel her trembling as she asked, “A-are you really going to feed me to the sharks?”
He was tempted to say yes. But when he glanced at her, he noted that her face was pasty white except for a few smudges of dirt. Her eyes seemed to glaze as she looked down through the widening gap, and her lower lip quivered. She was terrified. Why did that make him feel like a bastard? He was only doing what he had to do.
“You’d hardly make a mouthful for a single shark,” Bryce finally told her, tightening his grip on her wrist and urging her forward. “Too skinny. But don’t tempt fate by looking down. Just hang on and jump when I do. I’ll go when the ship swings back toward us.”
The gap narrowed and he jumped. Caitlin gasped but did as he’d commanded, landing safely next to him. Fear must have made her knees weak, however, for they seemed to give under her. Bryce steadied her slender body, not liking the way she felt, so soft and vulnerable against him. She pushed herself up and away from him immediately. Ridiculous, but he thought she seemed almost embarrassed at having shown him any weakness.
“I can stand by myself, thank you,” she told him haughtily, color seeping back into her face.
“Good. Then I won’t have to carry you.”
Without another word Bryce grasped her wrist and dragged Caitlin across the deck toward his own cabin. She might be weaker than before, but she was just as determined to give him a hard time, he thought with an inward chuckle.
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Lock you in my cabin,” Bryce told her, hanging on to the still struggling woman while opening the door with his free hand. “And forget finding a spare key in here. There isn’t one.”
“Wait a minute!” she yelled as he pushed her inside. Caitlin whirled around and bravely glared at him. “You can’t lock me up like a…”
“Hostage?” Bryce helpfully supplied, deliberately aiming a wicked grin at her.
Though her face was flushed with fury, he recognized some other, more complex set of emotions cross her features. If Bryce thought she would begin to rail at him, he was surprised at the way Caitlin seemed to choke down the heated words he expected. Again he felt her fear as though it were a tangible thing, and it made him angry.
“Are you ready to talk about Moreau?” he demanded.
“Please believe me,” Caitlin said, unshed tears brightening her pale blue eyes. “I can’t tell you anything about Moreau that would be important.”
“Then welcome to your new home on the Sea Devil.”
With that Bryce slammed and locked the cabin door. Then, ignoring Caitlin’s moaned “Not again!” as well as her determined pounding, he stalked toward Anselm, who stood near the prow of the ship.
As the ocean swelled, it momentarily lifted the Sea Devil. Following the direction of his mate’s focus, Bryce glanced over the rail and across the white cruiser. Its twin skiffs equipped with outboard motors were already in the water on the other side, and the crew members who’d manned Moreau’s boat were seated in them.
“Get going before we change our minds!” Anselm yelled. A few of Bryce’s men waved rifles threateningly, but the gestures were hardly necessary. The skiffs were already pulling away from the cruiser. “I assume we leave Moreau’s boat?”
Bryce nodded. “She’ll wreck herself on the reef like the other one did—unless someone comes to her rescue. Any sign of that two-master?”
“She was quite a ways out. Her captain won’t bring her any closer.” Anselm grinned, his white teeth sparkling against his dark beard. “They say we’re a bloodthirsty bunch, mon. That we murdered at least one crew member on board that last boat.”
“Good. Fear makes men careless.” And what about women? Bryce wondered. Would he have to prey on Caitlin’s fear to make her talk? Remembering her blue eyes, wide with fright, Bryce silently cursed. “What did you find out?”
“The next shipment isn’t scheduled yet. Nevison’s guess is a week or so.”
“Damn!” Bryce slammed his closed fist down on the rail so hard that his hand vibrated with pain. “Another week!”
“Bryce, my friend,” Anselm said softly, moving closer. “You know as well as I do that that could mean a week or a month in the West Indies. But be realistic. What difference does time make now?”
Though he wanted to disagree, Bryce knew Anselm was correct. “Ned certainly won’t care how long it takes. The important thing is that we finish what we set out to do.” Bryce turned his thoughts back to Caitlin, deliberately hardening himself against the memory of her frightened blue eyes. “But perhaps I can speed up the process. How anxious do you think Jean Moreau would be to have his mistress back in his arms?”
It was definitely time to wake up from this living nightmare, Caitlin decided from her perch on the cabin’s only bunk. Staring out the window, she watched the foam-roiled swells of the ocean as the black ship stealthily cut through the night. They’d been sailing for nearly a quarter of an hour. Who knew how far they were from the nearest land?
She rubbed her knuckles, which were still tender from pounding at the door so hard. Even in the dim light provided by a single wall fixture she could see the bruises ringing her wrist where Bryce had held her in that viselike grip of his. Her arm and face were sore as well, from her earlier encounter.
Kidnapped by pirates twice in one night! That kind of thing didn’t happen to people anymore—certainly not to her. If she couldn’t believe it had actually happened, then who would, for heaven’s sake? Let this be a nightmare, she prayed, turning her eyes upward as though it might change things. No matter that her present captor was probably one of the sexiest men she’d ever met, Caitlin wanted nothing more than to wake up alone in her own bed in North Carolina.
North Carolina.
The thought reminded her of Babs.
Babs would soon return to Hibiscus Island, only to find her friend gone. Surely she would notify the authorities when she
found Caitlin missing At least Babs would tell Jean, who surely would be concerned. Perhaps he would begin a search for her, himself.
The slim hope kept her from stretching out on the bunk and going to sleep as every exhausted fiber of her being had been urging her to do for the past half hour. Caitlin kept herself awake by trying to figure out how she could signal Jean or the authorities when she spotted their boat. Perhaps she could climb one of the masts and wave something colorful to get their attention…
But Caitlin knew that climbing a mast wouldn’t be as easy as climbing a tree—not that she’d climbed any trees in more than a dozen years—even if that scoundrel of a captain would let her out of this room. Speculatively she glanced at the windowed doors that seemed to lead to a tiny, private deck at the rear of the cabin. Were they open? When the time came, would she be able to get out there and perhaps climb up on top of this cabin and get to one of the masts?
Caitlin decided to check it out.
Getting out of the bunk and crossing the few yards to the set of doors was another problem. She couldn’t stand easily, because the vessel was leaning to one side. And moving across the floor was tricky, even bracing herself on a slant with her knees locked, as she was doing, because she felt slightly disoriented. Shaking her head to clear it, Caitlin forced herself to go on, feeling a surge of triumph when she reached the double doors and they opened easily.
Still clinging to the handles, she breathed in a great gulp of sea air.
“Going somewhere?” a husky voice asked.
Startled, Caitlin let go. The doors flew inward as she whipped around to face Bryce, who was leaning against the opposite wall, arms across his chest. How had he entered without her hearing? And how long had he been watching her?
“I—I needed fresh air,” she said, realizing that it was the truth. The sea breeze seemed to have cleared her head and sharpened her faculties. “It was stuffy in here.”
“But with the wind picking up and the ship moving at eight knots, you’ll be cold in no time.” He crossed to the doors and closed them, then cracked open a window. “That should do the job if it really was fresh air you wanted. But if you were thinking of jumping ship, I’d suggest you forget it. You’d never make it to land.”
