by Diana Palmer
“I don’t mind a calculated risk, with money. I mind one with human bodies. Mistakes happen in the heat of passion. I’m not taking chances with you, ever. You’re going to marry some normal, steady man like your professor boyfriend and live happily ever after.”
“Is that an order?”
“You bet!”
She searched his face with sad eyes. “I’d only spend the rest of my life dreaming about you.”
“It’s the glamour,” he said flatly. “If I were a poor man, or a wage earner, you’d feel differently. Hell, I can look in a mirror! I know what women see, without the glitter. You’re a working girl and I’ve been a multimillionaire. A little hero worship is inevitable.”
“You think I’m attracted to your wallet?” she exclaimed on a hushed laugh. Only a working girl! She was world famous. He didn’t know that, though.
“No, I don’t think you’re a gold digger,” he said emphatically. “But I do think that you’re attracted to an image that doesn’t really exist.”
“Images don’t kiss like you do.”
“I’m leaving. I don’t like losing arguments.”
“Neither do I. Stay and finish this one.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. Karie!” He raised his voice. “Time to go!”
“Coming, Dad!”
He walked out the front door, joined immediately by Karie. They called good-nights over their shoulders, leaving Janine and Kurt by themselves. The room seemed to close in around them.
“Mom and Dad are fine,” she told her young brother, putting an affectionate arm around his shoulders as they watched the Rourkes stroll down the beach toward their own house. “Canton called the president’s office and they sent out a search party.”
He whistled. “Nice to have influence, huh?”
“Nice for us,” she agreed. “It’s a relief to know they haven’t been kidnapped or something.”
“You bet!” He glanced up at her. “He reads your books, did you know?”
Her heart jumped. “Canton Rourke?”
“Karie says he’s got everything you’ve ever written, including Catacomb. Good thing he hasn’t looked at the photo.”
“He wouldn’t recognize me if he did,” she said. “I hope.”
“Why don’t you tell him?” he asked curiously.
She grimaced. “It’s too late for me to tell him now. He’d want to know why I didn’t before.” She shifted. “He doesn’t like famous women.”
“He likes you. It won’t matter.”
“Think not? I wonder,” she said thoughtfully.
“He’s a great guy.”
“So Karie says.” She remembered the car following them, then, at the mention of his friend. She glanced down at him. “Have you seen that dark man again, the one I attacked on the beach?”
“Why, yes, I have. He was in town when we were at the mercado,” Kurt said. “He saw us watching him and took off when I walked toward a policeman.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I. He’s after something. Reckon it’s us or Mom and Dad?” he queried.
“I don’t know. I’m going to pay more attention to what’s going on around us, though, you can count on that.”
She went to bed, but the memory of Canton’s kisses kept her awake far too long. She got up, dressed in her long white embroidered gown and strolled out onto the deck.
In the moonlight, she saw a figure on the beach, turned toward the Rourke house. Something glinted in the moonlight, something like metal. Could it be a telescope? There was a light on in Canton’s living room. There was a figure silhouetted against the curtains. The glint flashed again. Her heart jumped. What if it was a gun, trained on Canton?
She never thought of consequences. Without a thought for her own safety, she darted up to the front of the Rourke home and then rushed out from the side of it toward the man, yelling as she went.
The man was surprised, as she expected, but he reacted much too quickly. He raised an arm and motioned. Before Janine could slow her steps, before she even realized what was coming, two men shot out of the darkness with a sheet. It went over her head and around her. There was a sharp blow to her head, and after the pain came oblivion.
She woke up with a splitting headache and nausea. The floor rocked under her, and her bed was unusually hard. She opened her eyes and rolled over, right onto the hard floor. As she righted herself, she saw where she was. This wasn’t her house. It was a boat, a big cabin cruiser, and the dark man who’d been stalking the children was suddenly there, yelling furiously at his two shorter, darker companions. They seemed to be pleading with him, their hands raised in supplication. He wasn’t responding. He shouted at them even more.
She groaned involuntarily and they looked toward her menacingly. She knew then, at once, that if she didn’t keep her head, she was going to die, right here. The tall, dark man had a pistol tucked into his belt, and his hand suddenly rested on it.
She closed her eyes and pretended to be unconscious. If he knew that she saw and recognized him, she had little doubt that she’d be a goner. A minute later, she was tossed onto the bunk and rolled over. Her hands were tied firmly behind her.
“No es la muchacha Rourke, ¡idiotas! Es una mujer—es el otra, la vecina,” the tall man raged at them.
She didn’t understand Spanish, but the words “Rourke girl” and “not” were fairly familiar after two weeks in Mexico. They thought she was Karie! They’d meant to kidnap Karie, and because she’d run out from the Rourke house, in the darkness they’d mistaken her for Karie. They’d got the wrong person. God in heaven, they were after Karie!
The child’s life might depend on her now. If they were willing to go to these lengths, to kidnapping at gunpoint, to get Karie, they were deadly serious about what they meant to do. A potential witness, Janine might become expendable any minute. She had to get away, she had to warn Canton and Karie. The reason behind the kidnapping wasn’t important right now, but warning them was.
She pretended to sleep. The men stood over her, talking quickly. The tall one muttered something that sounded ominous and his companions agreed with whatever he’d said and followed him up on deck.
The noise of a motor sounded, but not loudly enough to be that of the cabin cruiser itself. This was a big, expensive ship. Obviously there was a small launch used for getting to and from shore. There was money behind this attempted kidnapping. The question was, whose, and what did they stand to profit by it? Canton had no money, at least, not yet. Perhaps he had a trust or a Swiss bank account about which no one knew anything.
Her heart raced madly as she relaxed her arms and wrists. She’d deliberately tensed them while she was being bound, an old trick her karate teacher had taught her. Now the bonds were much looser than they would have been. It would take time and concentration to get them off, but she had a chance. God willing, she’d get free. Then she could worry about how to escape. If the boat was close to shore, she could probably swim it. If there was no riptide, that was. A riptide might carry her miles off course. And if it were possible to swim to shore, why was a launch needed by her captors?
She couldn’t waste time worrying about that, she decided. First things first. She’d get loose. Then she’d figure out how to get off the ship.
All she needed now was luck and a little time.
Chapter Eight
The ropes were tied securely. After several minutes of twisting and turning and contorting, she couldn’t manage to loosen them even enough to get a finger free, much less an entire hand.
It was like one of her books, she thought with dark humor, but by this point, her heroine would be free and giving her captors hell.
Janine hated reality.
There was the sound of the launch returning, and suddenly she knew real fear. The man had a gun. He was impatient, and angry that the kidnapping had gone awry. He might shoot her. It might be the only way for him.
S
he thought about her parents and Kurt. She thought about Canton. Death had never been a preoccupation of hers, but now she couldn’t escape it. She might die here, in her nightgown, without ever having the chance to say goodbye to the people she loved most. And almost that bad was the realization that the sequel to Catacomb was barely one third of the way finished. They’d give it to another writer to finish. Oh, the horror of it!
As she gave renewed effort to her attempt to get away, she heard voices again, and suddenly the door of the cabin opened. The tall man was back, wearing a ski mask and gloves. Obviously he didn’t think she’d been conscious enough to recognize him before, so he was disguised. That was hopeful. If he meant to kill her, he wouldn’t need a disguise. But there was a pistol in his hand. He moved toward her, noting that she was wide-awake and watching him.
With a rasp in his voice, he ordered her, in thickly accented English, to stand up. He marched her ahead of him to the starboard side of the big cabin cruiser, and prodded her toward the rail.
“Jump,” he commanded.
There was no launch below. It looked a frightfully long way to the water, and her hands were still tied.
“I’m not going to jump like this, with my hands tied!” she raged at him.
The gun was prodded firmly into her back. She felt a pressure on her bound wrists, and they were suddenly free, a knife having parted them.
“Get off the boat or die,” the voice said harshly. “This is the only chance you’ll get.”
She didn’t wait around to argue. She was a strong swimmer and there was a moon. It wasn’t that far to shore. She could see the lights of the beach houses from here. Odd, lights at this hour of the morning…
The pistol punched her spine. She said a quick prayer, stood on the rail with her arms positioned and dived into the water.
It was cooler than she expected, but not so bad once she accustomed herself to the water. She struck out for shore, her heart throbbing as she waited to see if the man would shoot her in the back once she was on her way. If he was willing to kidnap a child, what would stop him from murdering a potential witness? He was wearing a ski mask now, though; he must have thought that she hadn’t had a good look at him. She’d never opened her eyes fully just after she’d regained consciousness. That might save her life.
She swam, counting each stroke, not even pausing for breath as she went steadily toward shore.
There was one bad place where she felt the surge of the waves, but she managed to get through it by relaxing her body and letting the waves sweep her on toward the beach.
She was getting tired. The blow to her head, the disorientation, the lack of sleep all combined dangerously to make her vulnerable to the effort she was expending. She rolled onto her back, floating, while above her the moon made a halo through the clouds. It looked unreal, all gossamer. She was trying to recall some lines about moons and silver apples when she heard a splashing sound close by. All at once, an arm snaked around her head, under her jaw, and she cried out.
“I’ve got you,” Canton’s deep voice rasped at her ear. “I’m going to tow you to shore. Are you all right?”
“Head hurts,” she whispered. “They hit me.”
“Good God!” He turned and struck out for the shore. He was a much more powerful swimmer than she was, each stroke more forceful than the last as he made his way through the waves to the shallows where he could finally stand up.
He tugged her along with him, fighting the powerful undertow. When he was through it, he bent and lifted her sopping wet form in the gown and started toward her beach house.
“The lights…are on,” she managed to say weakly.
“I heard you yell,” he said curtly. “You weren’t in your bed or anywhere else. I’ve been searching for almost an hour. It only just occurred to me that the cabin cruiser was sitting out there anchored. It’s gone now, but I’ve got the police after it. I thought you were on it. I was watching it with binoculars when I saw you come on deck with someone and jump off.”
“I didn’t jump. He pushed me off,” she said. Every step he took jarred her poor head. She touched her temple. “Oh, dear God, I’m so tired of headaches! That animal hit me over the head!”
His arms contracted. He didn’t speak, but his silence was eloquent.
“It’s a miracle you didn’t drown,” he said through his teeth. “By God, someone’s going to pay for this!”
“They’re after Karie,” she whispered, clutching at his soaked shirt. “I heard the tall man mention her name. It’s the same man, the one who was…following the kids.”
His face went even harder. “Marie,” he muttered. “I couldn’t meet her financial demands, so she’s stooped to kidnapping to make me fork up the money she wants. Damn her!”
“She wouldn’t hurt Karie,” she mumbled.
“Not intentionally. But they hit you thinking you were Karie, didn’t they?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He muttered something else and carried her up into her darkened beach house.
“Kurt isn’t awake?” she asked worriedly.
“No.” He went through to her bedroom, stood her by the bed, stripped her quite forcefully and deftly and stuck her under the covers without a word. “Stay right there until I change clothes. I’m taking you in to the hospital.”
“But Karie…” she moaned.
“We’ll all go. I’ll wake Kurt on my way out. No nausea?” he asked, hesitating in the doorway. For the first time, she saw that he had on trousers and a shirt, but no shoes. “No confusion?”
“Not yet…”
“I’ll be right back.”
She heard him bang on Kurt’s door, heard her brother’s thready reply. Her head throbbed so that she couldn’t think at all. Kurt came into the room, worried and nervous when he saw her white face.
“What happened?” he exclaimed.
“Some men kidnapped me and took me out to a cabin cruiser,” she rasped. “Kurt, put that wet gown in the bathtub and get me a nightgown out of my drawer, please.”
“Kidnapped you?”
“They thought…I was Karie, you see,” she muttered. She held her head. “Boy, am I going to have a headache now.”
“How did they get you?” he persisted.
“I went out when I saw moonlight glinting on a gun barrel. I thought they were going to shoot Canton.”
“And you rushed in to the rescue.” He shook his head. “I wish I could convince you that you aren’t Diane Woody,” he groaned, “before you die trying to act like her.”
“I got the point, just now,” she assured him. “The gown?”
“Sure.”
He carried the gown off to the bathtub and didn’t come back. Canton did, dressed and impatient. “Where are your clothes?” he demanded, and started looking for them before she could answer him. “These will do.”
He closed the door, tossed her underwear to her and jerked the covers off. “No time for a bath right now,” he said. “You’ll have to go as you are. Here.” He helped her into her underthings as if he’d done it all his life. He slid a cool cotton sundress over her head, slid sandals onto her bare feet, then picked her up and strode out of the room with her. It was all too quick for her to feel embarrassment, but she was certain that she would, later.
“I want my purse and my makeup,” she said weakly.
“You don’t need either. I’m not flat broke and you’re too sick for makeup.”
“I look awful without it,” she whispered weakly.
“That’s a matter of perspective.” He called to Kurt. The boy had just finished wringing out her gown. He came running, and locked the door behind them before they all went to Canton’s waiting rental car. Karie was already in the front seat, wide-awake and concerned when she saw Janine.
“Is she going to be all right?” she asked quickly.
“Of course she is.” Canton helped her into the back seat and motioned Kurt in beside her.
He drove like a madman
to the hospital, ignoring traffic signs and other motorists. His set expression kept the children from asking any more questions.
He strode right into the emergency room with Janine in his arms and started shooting orders in Spanish right and left the minute he got through the doorway.
In no time at all, Janine was tested for everything from blood loss to concussion and placed in a private room.
“Slight concussion without complications,” Canton said a minute later, dropping into a chair beside her bed.
“The kids?” she murmured drowsily.
“Down the hall. They have a guest room.”
“What about you?” she persisted.
He took her cool hand in his and leaned back, still holding it. “I’m not leaving you for a second,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
She felt warm all over, protected and cherished. Her fingers curled trustingly into his and clung. They must have given her something in that shot, she thought as the world began to recede. She was certainly sleepy.
It was daylight when she woke. Canton was standing by the window, his back to it, staring at her in the bed. Her eyes opened and she looked across at him with slowly returning consciousness.
She felt as if she’d known him all her life. The odd feeling brought a smile to her face.
He didn’t return it. His eyes were wary now, watchful. “How are you feeling?” he asked, and even the tone of his voice was different.
“Better. I think,” she qualified.
His hands were in his pockets. He didn’t move any closer to the bed. His face was drawn, his jaw taut.
While she pondered his sudden change of attitude, the door opened and a nurse came in.
“I’m just going off duty,” she said. She had a book under her arm and she approached the bed a little shyly. “I won’t bother you right now, I know you’re still feeling under the weather. But I bought Catacomb as soon as it came out and it’s just the most wonderful mystery I’ve ever read. I recognized you the minute I saw you, even though the photo in the back is pretty vague. I know your real name, you see, as well as your pen name. I have all your books.” She moved closer, smiling shyly at Canton. “I was telling Mr. Rourke what a thrill it was to get to see you in person. I don’t want to intrude or anything. I just wondered if I left my book, if you’d sign it? I put a slip of paper with my name inside the cover. If you don’t mind.”
