Now, Martin smiled at the word fiancée. He glanced at his watch. Close to five-thirty. With another hour and a half to the party, she’d be making herself beautiful about now.
***
This wasn’t possible. Yet, there he was, with a look of pure evil on the face she’d hoped never to see again. Her feet gripped the floor as though anchored. Run. Her heart wasn’t beating, she was sure it wasn’t, and there was no air in her lungs.
“The champagne won’t bring itself in, Chris. Do you want me to get it?” Derek swung his feet over the side of the bed. He smiled. “My God, I’ve missed you so much.”
A surge of outrage dominated the fear. “How dare you.”
“What did you say?” Derek stood up.
“How dare you send me an anonymous note, knowing I would think it was from Martin! How dare you come on board my yacht and make yourself comfortable on my bed.”
Derek burst into laughter. Hands clenched into tight balls, Christie glared at him. This wasn’t the man she’d once loved.
He stopped laughing, but the sneer remained. “Your boat. Seriously, you don’t even like the water so why would you buy a boat?”
“I didn’t buy it.”
“Ah. That’s what he did to win your... affection. Outdo me. After all, I only gave you expensive jewellery and clothes, and exotic holidays. Oh wait. You didn’t really come along on all of those, did you?”
“Get off my yacht.”
“We’ve got a lot of making up to do, baby, so let’s open the champagne.” He took a step toward Christie and she backed through the half doors. “Good. I’m glad you’re seeing sense.”
In the galley, Christie took the bottle out of the bucket and put it aside, then tipped the ice over the floor as quietly as she could. Run. He meant her harm. She had to get to the dinghy.
“What’s taking so long?”
She flew up the steps into a wall of humidity and a cloud-laden sky. After throwing her handbag over her head, she worked on the knot holding the dinghy. “Come on, come on.” Her fingers barely moved the rope.
“What the hell!” Derek yelled, followed by a thud and swearing.
Christie almost had the rope untied.
Footsteps thumped up the steps behind her and she scrambled away just as he burst onto the deck. “You bitch.”
The yacht began rocking heavily from blustery, hot wind, forcing Christie to clamber around the side of the cabin almost on her hands and knees.
“Get back here!” Derek’s fury spurred Christie on. She could double back and finish undoing the rope. In seconds she’d be on the dinghy and rowing harder than she’d ever done before. Near the bow, she straightened up. Derek wasn’t far behind her.
“Stop, Derek!” She cried out. “We can sort this out on land.”
Panting heavily, Derek kept coming, but with difficulty. He limped, his left foot leaving a trail of blood on the timber boards. Distracted by his foot, Christie misjudged how close he was and now there was nowhere for her to run. He stopped, bracing his legs apart to counter the movement of the boat. “You little bitch. We’ll be sorting this out here and now.”
***
Against his better judgement, Trev gave Rupert access to his mobile phone again. He stood behind him, making sure nothing was tampered with. “You’ll get a chance to make phone calls soon.”
“It isn’t that.”
“Then what? Photos of your family?”
Rupert glanced at Trev, annoyed. His imaginary family was one of the things that got him caught. The moment he’d said ‘Julie’ instead of ‘Lucy’, he’d realised his mistake. Daphne didn’t seem to notice at the time, but Christie put it all together. Clever girl.
“I’m playing Candy Crush.”
“Smart arse.”
“I need to make sure I’ve got enough in the bank to post bail.”
“What, won’t Derek do it?”
“You know, under different circumstances I’d like to have a beer with you.”
Trev grunted. “Not feeling that. You’ve caused a lot of distress to some fine people. Not exactly a good way to start a friendship.”
“And I’ll make up for it. Told you, I’ll roll over on Ingrid. In a manner of speaking.”
“And Derek?”
“He’s just my boss. Nothing to do with this.”
Trev shut up, more interested in watching Rupert log in to his bank account. The first account had a couple of hundred in it. Then, he switched to another account. His fingers flew up and down the transactions and he swore under his breath. He logged out and handed the phone back.
“Not enough for the bail?” Trev headed for the door.
“Mate, you might want to get those detectives here before I change my mind. Derek Hobbs is behind the whole thing and unless you know where he is right now, I’d be worried.”
***
As quickly as it rose, the wind completely dropped again, leaving an eerie silence. Christie held her hands up in front of her chest, palms toward Derek. There was alcohol on his breath.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt and we’ll get that looked at once we’re back in River’s End.” Her voice was calm. “You scared me. I wasn’t expecting you here and—”
“No. You we’re expecting your precious artist. Well, first things first. You and I are going back downstairs to make things right.”
“We’re past that.”
“Oh, I’d be thinking carefully, Chris. If you want that deadbeat left in one piece, then you’ll do what I say.”
Prickles of fear ran up Christie’s spine. “Why did you send Rupert?”
Derek blinked. “Who?”
“He broke into my garage. And then, he broke into three other places, doing terrible damage and causing a lot of distress.”
“I didn’t tell him to do that.”
“He wanted to buy the cottage, Derek. And I kind of admire your persistence.” Christie shuffled her feet a fraction, keeping eye contact. “I’m attached to it though, so even Ingrid going through my things wasn’t going to scare me into selling it to a random stranger.”
“That was her idea.”
“I believe you. She never liked me, not from the first time we met, in our home. Ours, Derek.”
“I told her she was an idiot. I wouldn’t let her hurt you, Christie. See, I called you Christie.”
“She always wanted you, and I was in her way.” She shuffled again. Just a little bit more and there might be enough room to get past him.
“Well, she’s well and truly gone now. She took off once she realised she’d gone too far. The police were sniffing around looking for her and they can have her. What I care about is you coming home with me.”
Christie lowered her hands. “I’m going to Auckland in a couple of days. Work.”
“With Carlo.”
“Yes, with Carlo.”
“Then you’re coming back. To our apartment?” Derek glanced at her hands and she quickly put her right hand over her left. “Are you?”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“I do. Two weeks. In fact, I’m booked on the outward flight with you, but thought we might begin the process of reuniting early.”
Oh God. You have been stalking me. Sick to her stomach, Christie dropped her eyes. The shaking in her hands got worse and she curled her fingers around each other.
“Are you wearing a ring?”
“What?”
“Show me.” Derek grabbed both of her arms and spun them both around, so that his back was to the water. “Don’t walk away from me!”
“Derek, I—”
“Show me.” He yanked her left arm so hard that she cried out. He stared at her hand. “There’s only one ring that belongs there.”
It was like deja vu. Last year, he’d let himself in to the cottage, demanding she wear his engagement ring again. His anger-fuelled strength and her sense of helplessness had stopped her from fighting back.
“Take it off.”
; “Derek, stop this now.”
“You can’t just do what you’re told. You have to make everything so hard.” His face reddened and his grip on her hand tightened. “Take it off.”
“Okay. Okay, I will. Just let go, you’re hurting me too much.”
“Say please.”
“Please.”
He dropped her hand and she started to wiggle the ring off. “It’s tight, just give me a moment.”
A satisfied smirk curled his lips. A strong gust of wind unsettled the water. The yacht rolled slightly and Christie adjusted her feet to brace herself, all the time concentrating on her hand.
Derek glanced behind himself at the churning sea and Christie slipped the ring into the outside pocket of her handbag, and pushed it behind her.
She lunged at Derek, hands in tight fists. They hit him in the stomach and as he doubled over, she pushed with all of her strength. One, two, three steps staggering back and he teetered at the very edge of the bow.
Arms flapping to regain his balance, Derek grabbed at her, missing as she dropped to her knees. This time, she wasn’t helpless. Get off my boat! She hit his bleeding foot. He howled in pain and after one more shove, fell overboard.
Chapter Forty-three
Christie threw herself full length onto the deck and peered over the side. Derek could swim. But he’d been drinking. What have I done? He burst up with a shower of foam, spluttering and cursing.
“Throw me...” he spat water out, “a line!” He waved his arms around. “You’ll regret that.”
No. She wasn’t regretting anything now and pushed herself back onto her feet.
“Dammit! I’m drowning.” He dog-paddled in a circle.
Christie unhooked a lifebuoy from the side of the cabin. “I’ll send someone to fish you out.”
“Throw it to me!” He screamed in fury.
“Say please.”
“I’m going to kill him. Then you.”
Stone cold terror filled Christie and she backed away.
“Wait, sorry. Please throw it.” His pleas followed her to the stern, where she untied first one dinghy, then the other. She had to move Jasmine Sea. In a minute or two he’d work out that simply swimming to the stern and climbing up was an option. She sent the lifebuoy flying over his head to force him to swim away.
There was no way she could raise the anchor in time. From under the seat near the stern, she retrieved the spare key. After a couple of attempts, the motor burst into life and over it, Christie heard Derek yell.
In a fixed tackle box, she found Martin’s bolt cutters. She staggered to the bow, grabbing at the railing as the yacht pitched around. Using all of her strength she cut through the anchor’s chain and felt the yacht sigh in relief.
A distant rumble of thunder barely registered as she dragged herself back to the wheel, struggling now to stay upright against increasing winds. She opened the throttle and pointed the bow toward the gap between the cliffs. Jasmine Sea responded, moving smoothly through the choppiness.
Somehow, she’d got away. Derek was just now clambering into a dinghy. He’d never catch her in that. She’d keep her distance until help arrived. She dug around in her handbag and found her phone.
Christie let out a sob. The phone was dead. Too many phone calls ago she’d forgotten to keep it plugged in and charging. It was almost dark now and in moments she’d have to decide where to go. Calm down! Regulating her breathing, she pushed the panic aside.
There was a radio downstairs, next to where Martin kept the charts. She turned off the motor and stumbled down the steps, almost falling in her haste. She pressed the on button. Nothing happened. She moved the dial and again, no response so followed the power cord behind the bench and along the wall to where it was plugged in.
In disbelief, she dropped to the floor and burst into tears. The cord was cut in two.
***
Martin stepped out of the shower to the sound of his phone. Almost tripping over Randall, who had a thing about laying across the bathroom doorway, he struggled to swipe the screen with damp fingers.
“Martin, it’s Trev.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Bit of an update. Is Christie with you?”
“No. She’s at Palmerston House. Why?”
“Probably nothing. Our friend Rupert decided to spill his guts and it’s pretty damning about Derek Hobbs.”
Martin reached into the bathroom for a towel. “How.”
“In a nutshell, Derek sent Rupert to buy the cottage. It was all on track as far as they were concerned, with Christie leading Rupert to believe she might consider it.”
Martin put the phone on speaker and dropped it onto the bed as he dried himself. “Okay. If he says so.”
“Anyway, with Ingrid butting in and starting her chain of events, Derek got hot under the collar and told Rupert he wanted results. At any price. Your name came up quite a bit and so did hers.”
“Did he threaten Christie?” Tossing the towel into a washing basket with more force than he needed, Martin’s voice hardened. “I’m heading down there now.”
“The threats were more against you, mate. Look, we don’t know where he is. No sign of him at his office or apartment and now it turns out he booked a hire car a few hours ago.”
“So, he’s heading here?”
“Probably not. More than likely he’s gone to meet up with Ingrid and its all bluff and bravado. But keep an eye out, okay?”
“Are you coming along tonight?”
“Expect to. At this rate, I might stay in kit.”
“I’ll see you shortly.” Martin hung up and dialled Christie, taking the phone off speaker. It went straight to voicemail and he grimaced. “Sweetheart, I’m leaving in five minutes, but do me a favour and stay close to Angus. Give Trev a ring if anything odd happens, okay? See you soon.”
So much for charging her phone. We’ll talk about that. Calling the landline at Palmerston House would only slow him now, and he’d be there in a few moments anyway. He finished dressing and threw on some shoes.
Randall followed him through the house as Martin collected his wallet and keys. “Better you stay here.” He patted Randall’s head at the door. “No point us both getting wet on the way home.”
The air was still hot and sticky but a strong breeze warned of the imminent change ahead. Martin slid the door closed. Lightning forked into the sea out along the horizon and he turned to watch heavy clouds scuttle across the darkening sky. A long, low rumble of thunder followed. At least Christie was safe with their friends.
***
Not knowing how long she’d huddled on the floor, weeping, Christie jumped at the thunder. Pull yourself together. There was a way out of this mess. The yacht was drifting and with no anchor, anything could go wrong.
Back on deck, she realised just how far away from the mooring she’d come. Much longer and those rocks around the cliffs would have sunk the boat. Once the motor was started, she brought Jasmine Sea back to the channel. “Safe passage means keeping an even distance from each side. It’s a good channel, deep and quite predictable in any weather, but also narrow. Stay in the middle.”
His words spun in her head. Deep. Yes, of course the water was deep here. She scrambled to the seats and found a life jacket.
Derek wanted to kill Martin. She had no way of warning him or anyone else, thanks to the power cord that Derek must have cut when he boarded. He’d really thought of everything. Charm her with champagne, but just in case, make sure she had no way of calling for help.
“I’m not your little doormat anymore!” She screamed toward the beach. The wind whipped the words away but she didn’t care. She had stood up to Derek. Stopped him from hurting her. Now, she had to protect the man she loved.
With a careful hand and using the last moments of dull light to guide her, Christie steered Jasmine Sea between the cliffs. The storm loomed from the south-west which would help her get to River’s End. It was only around the headland, just a couple of na
utical miles. This might be the hardest thing she’d ever do. But do it she would.
Martin had spoken of the laws of attraction. Christie visualised the jetty. It would be dark and the tide tricky, but she could get there and safely tie the yacht. Then, she’d get to his house, fly into his arms and he’d make everything alright again. A huge gust of wind slowed the yacht, the motor complaining. Christie cut it.
Now there was just the sound of the water and the occasional thunder. She was on the open sea. Above deep water. The jetty. She forced her feet to move and her hands to follow the instructions she gave them. The boat creaked and groaned as she raised the sails and then the spinnaker filled and Jasmine Sea raced toward River’s End.
***
Saturated, bleeding, and fuelled by an anger that made his head pound, Derek rowed to shore. In his whole life he had never been so humiliated. So hurt. As if his heart had been ripped out and thrown overboard alongside him. He’d gone to so much trouble to make things right and she’d lost her mind. He was going to find Martin Blake. And then he’d find Chris.
The dinghy stopped abruptly a couple of metres from shore and Derek swore as he clambered out into knee deep water. Everything hurt. He left the dinghy where it was and trudged onto dry sand. His shoes were on that yacht. Along with his fiancée.
“I love you, Chris.” He did. She was his and one way or another, despite her confusion, she would find that out very soon.
Derek tried to make the torch on his phone work but not even one light would flicker. He threw it into the ocean. There was a torch keyring on his car keys, so he took those out and this time there was a small beam. He had to keep his thumb on the button, but after a couple of stumbles, got himself to the car park.
His foot still bled from sliding on the ice cubes, straight into the leg of the table, slicing between his toes. God, it hurt. He’d probably pick up some disease. Martin Blake would pay for that as well.
The trees enclosed him and he lost his bearings. His cut foot hit something metal and he almost screamed in pain, dropping to his knees. It was a crowbar. Pain forgotten, Derek got back up and worked out where he was. He smiled. First the artist.
***
Jasmine Sea Page 23
