by Gwyn McNamee
All that’s left is stone-cold fury.
Shit. I may have misjudged him.
He’s definitely the one to worry about on this team of thugs.
He points to Darren. “Take him and put him with the rest of the crew. I’ll take care of her.”
Take care of me? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Where the fuck are this psycho and his giant taking me?
He advances toward me, eating up the distance between us on the deck in quick, purposeful strides. I take an instinctive step back, but he continues forward and moves behind me. His hand wraps around my forearm, and he pushes me forward across the deck toward where he just stood at the rail.
“What the hell are you doing?” I pull against his hold, trying to break free, but his hand coiled around my arm like a vice doesn’t budge.
I don’t know why I bother to ask. He’s made his intentions clear. He will use me as a bargaining chip, and that means taking me.
I’m an idiot.
Dad would kill me if he knew I was letting myself be taken hostage. He ultimately had no intention of letting me run this ship when he retired. He thought Leo would come around once he finished his time in the Army and want in on the family business. Maybe there was a good reason for Dad to doubt my ability given how my first time captaining alone has gone.
But what was I supposed to do?
Mom is useless when it comes to anything besides being a homemaker, and Leo’s deployment won’t be over for another six months. Dad never expected to need a successor so early. He never planned for anything catastrophic.
His death left us dangling on a precipice. It was either I take over and complete his contracts, or lose everything—the ship, our house, our livelihood. I couldn’t just sit at home in Traverse City and pretend it wasn’t happening. I had to complete the shipment.
I didn’t have a choice then. And I don’t have a choice now. As captain, it’s my job to protect the crew. That means going with these guys.
It’s only for forty-eight hours. I can survive forty-eight hours.
We stop at the rail, and I lean forward, looking down toward the churning lake.
A sleek speedboat to jet us out of here quickly or a large vessel stocked with the cargo they just stole doesn’t sit in the water.
The fifty-four-foot Cruiser Yacht rolling majestically in the waves takes my breath away.
Holy shit!
That’s a two-million-dollar boat.
How did guys like this get a yacht like that?
Stole it, no doubt.
Rushed footsteps approach from behind. I turn slightly and see the Hulk charging across the deck. He climbs over the rail, descends rapidly on the ladder, and leaps onto the deck of the yacht.
Surprisingly agile for his size.
Cap hasn’t said a word to me since he announced his intent to take me. His silence could mean any number of things—none of them good.
A shudder rolls through my body.
This is bad. Really bad.
He grips my wrists and instinctively, I pull away. He yanks me back until my body presses against his, my hands in a very precarious position.
When I first saw him climb aboard—before the guns came out and I realized we were in trouble—I had imagined getting my hands on his junk, but not quite like this.
“Hold still.” His breath flutters along my neck, and I shiver despite the warm, humid air brought in by the impending storm.
Something slides between my palms, and the bindings around my wrists pop free. I glance over my shoulder and see him returning a switchblade to his pocket.
Guns and blades—this is looking better and better for me.
I shake my arms out and rub at the stinging skin on my wrists.
His eyes meet mine, and a flicker of something resembling warmth, or maybe even sympathy, appears before he drops his guard back in place.
“Go.” He points to the ladder.
I shouldn’t do this.
I shouldn’t go without putting up more of a fight.
That’s what a smart woman would do.
But I can’t physically compete with these guys. I’ll have to appeal to something else.
I pause at the rail and turn back to my soon-to-be captor. “If you let me go, I’ll tell the Coast Guard it was all a misunderstanding. I’ll give you whatever is in the safe.”
It’s not much, but it may appease him.
His hand tightens around my upper arm. “You are going to call the Coast Guard and tell them the beacon was activated in error and everything is fine. If you try to alert them in any way, you and your entire crew will end up at the bottom of the lake. Once they are satisfied help isn’t needed, you’ll climb down this ladder and get on that damn boat.”
Bile rises up my throat, and goose bumps break out across my skin with his threat.
I don’t have a choice.
He pulls out a radio, adjusts the channel, and holds it out to me.
I take it and glance at the screen. Channel 16. He really is making me call off the Coast Guard. My eyes drift over the gun at Cap’s waist, over the guns visible on the two men herding the crew together…
Just do it, Grace. It’s your only option.
I press the call button. “Coast Guard, come in.”
“Coast Guard Sector Lake Michigan, copy.”
“Uh, this is Grace Albright, Captain of the Neptune’s Daughter. I activated the EPIRB, but there is no emergency. All is fine.”
“Yes, ma’am. We received the EPIRB signal and already have vessels heading your way. Please confirm there is no active emergency and you are not in need of any assistance.”
I suck in a deep breath and stare at the radio. This is my only chance to change my mind, to not go along with this crazy plan. But I can’t risk my crew.
“That’s correct. There is no emergency, and we are not in need of assistance. Please cancel any response.”
With this storm system coming in, the Coast Guard will welcome the end of the call. They’ll have other things to deal with.
“Affirmative. Glad everything is all right, ma’am. Let us know if you have any trouble.”
With the call completed, there’s nothing else I can do to delay the inevitable. Not if I want to ensure the safety of my crew. I hand the radio back to Cap and turn to the rail.
His hand meets my lower back. “Go.”
I follow his order and swing over the rail, climbing slowly down the ladder toward the yacht and the churning water of Lake Michigan.
Strong hands grab my waist and yank me from the ladder. My feet land on the polished wood deck. I twist around and glare at the big guy. “I could have gotten down myself.”
The last thing I want is to encourage any of these assholes to touch me.
He growls low and flexes the humongous mitts he calls hands. “Not fast enough.”
Cap follows down the ladder, drops onto the deck, and motions for the Hulk to head to the controls before turning to me. “Down.”
He points to the door to the cabin and, after taking one last longing look at Neptune’s Daughter, I climb below with my captor close at my heels.
Warm, rich colors and leather greet me below.
This place is nicer than my apartment. Nothing like having a luxurious prison.
And this place is a prison. There’s no doubt. One set of stairs leading to the deck. One way out. A way that will undoubtedly be guarded by these two. The small windows along the top of both walls won’t provide an escape route either. Even if I were half my size, I couldn’t fit through one, and the only thing out there is endless water for miles. There’s nowhere to go.
He motions for me to take a seat on one of the leather couches running along the walls and strides to the kitchen. A cabinet door opens, and he yanks out a bottle of Maker’s Mark. Two glasses join it on the counter.
What the hell?
I sure hope he doesn’t intend to bring a drink up to his buddy driving the damn boat. That’s all I
need, a drunk driver taking me to my doom.
The engine rumbles to life, and I fly sideways as we shoot away from the Neptune’s Daughter. I brace myself on the couch, and Cap grabs the side of the counter in the kitchen to steady himself.
He pours two fingers in each glass and returns to stand in front of me. His dark eyes meet mine. “I think we both need one of these.”
I stare at the dark amber liquid. “I somehow doubt taking booze from one’s kidnapper is a good idea.”
An ironic laugh fills the cabin, and he shakes the glass at me.
You don’t need to drink it. Just take it to appease him.
I accept the glass with a shaky hand, and he drops down onto the couch across from me.
He leans forward, running his free hand back through his hair. “Probably not, but who the fuck knows? It’s not like I’ve done this before.”
“Done what?”
His gaze meets mine. “Taken a hostage on a job. I don’t take hostages. Hostages are more trouble than they’re worth.”
Is that supposed to scare me or relax me?
On one hand, someone who doesn’t normally take hostages is probably not as scary as I initially thought. It means there’s hope they won’t hurt me, or worse, and I’ll actually be released, maybe even sooner than anticipated. On the other, someone who doesn’t normally take hostages may be more likely to make mistakes—and mistakes can be deadly.
More trouble than they’re worth…
That means I need to stay worth something to them. As soon as I’m not, they can—and will—get rid of me, and maybe not in the way they’ve promised.
Rather than voice my concern over his hostage-taking virginity, I fuck common sense and take a sip of the proffered drink. The warm burn of whiskey is welcome. Dad always had a glass of the good stuff in his hand in the evening, and while I’m not really a drinker, I always took a sip of his before I headed to my place for the night.
Maybe thinking about Dad is a bad idea. The telltale burn of building tears begins, and I wipe at my eyes quickly to eliminate the evidence.
Don’t show any fear.
He focuses his hard gaze on me. “We won’t hurt you if you cooperate.”
Guess I failed at that.
“I promise, we will let you go as soon as we know we’re safe and we’ve delivered the cargo.”
The sincerity in his voice almost dispels my fears. I almost want to believe him, but then I remember the flashes of ice in his stare when he was angry earlier, and the stone-cold terror his crew elicited with just their presences.
This man is a wicked combination, and I can’t afford to let my guard down.
He drains his glass and drops it on the side table before standing and disappearing above deck without a glance back in my direction.
Leaving me alone here seems like an amateur move and a potentially deadly mistake for him. There are, no doubt, a dozen different weapons down here. The kitchen knives alone could do some serious damage.
Either he trusts me, or he’s showing his virginity in hostage-taking again.
We cruise at breakneck speeds for what feels like hours without Cap returning.
A thorough search of the main cabin proved fruitless. No means of escape. The only door, which must lead to the bedroom, is locked, and even if it weren’t, that’s the last place I want to be.
I’ve eyed the knives in the kitchen area several times, but what would I do with one? These guys are huge, and even if I managed to take down one of them, there’s another, and they’re both armed.
And even if, by some act of God, I managed to get away, that only puts the crew at risk.
The other two goons who left on the other boat could turn around and go right back to the Neptune’s Daughter and slaughter everyone. My best bet is to play along until we get to land. Somewhere I might have a real chance of getting away and finding help.
We’re going south based on the direction we headed away from the Neptune’s Daughter, but on the open water, there isn’t much to help you gauge location without your instruments, the sun, and the stars. Down here, I can’t see much from the tiny port windows, and dark storm clouds have blocked out most of the sky.
When this storm hits, things will get a lot worse.
The boat slows and comes to a stop.
Goose bumps spread across my flesh.
Waiting is the worst, especially when you have no idea what you’re waiting for.
The familiar sound of the anchor being lowered into the water clanks along the hull.
I peer out the small window, but the only thing visible is open water. The same is true through the window on the other side of the boat.
That doesn’t make sense.
Shouldn’t we be trying to get somewhere with some cover before the storm?
An argument between Cap and the Hulk floats in through the open port window. I climb onto my knees and lean toward the opening, desperate to gather any information.
“What the fuck are we going to do? We’re fucking dead if we don’t get the shipment to Il Padrone by tomorrow.” The Hulk’s booming voice carries on the wind.
I cringe at the hostility and panic there. That can’t be good. They’re working for someone. Someone who sounds really fucking dangerous.
Who the hell is Il Padrone? What does he want with damn machine parts?
“You think I don’t know that? I know exactly the predicament we are in.” Cap’s voice is calmer but still holds the same edge of concern as his friend’s.
“We’re going to have company in less than five minutes. What the hell do we do?”
Company? The Coast Guard?
Hope blossoms in my chest. Maybe there’s a chance of getting out of this alive and unscathed.
At least for me.
Something about the panic in their voices tells me they’re serious about their lives being in danger because of this. More so than just prison for piracy.
“I have an idea…” Cap’s voice lowers until I can’t hear him anymore.
Boots thunder across the deck above me, and I struggle to return to my innocent-looking sitting position before Cap appears at the stairs to the cabin.
He descends quickly, and his eyes find mine. “The Coast Guard is almost here. We need to get rid of them.”
This is my chance.
His hands move to the hem of his T-shirt, and he yanks it over his head and tosses it on the floor. He pops open the button of his jeans, and he lowers the zipper as he approaches me.
“Whoa!” I scramble back against the corner of the couch. “What the hell are you doing? You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
He halts his advance, and his eyes widen slightly. He holds his hands out in apology, or is it surrender? “Shit, no, that’s not what…shit. I need your help.”
“Why the fuck should I help you?”
“If they come down here and think we’re fooling around, they won’t suspect anything. If you alert them of what’s happening, things could end very badly.”
He doesn’t answer my question or add “for you and your crew.” Maybe he isn’t referring to me at all, but the threat that seems to exist against him and his men, but, either way, I’m not helping him.
Alerting the Coast Guard the moment they set foot on this boat is the obvious move…
But the man standing in front of me said they would harm the crew if I don’t play along and make sure they all get to safety. Even if I were rescued now, there are still at least two more men who were on board with the pirates who left in another boat with the cargo
My stomach clenches.
There’s obviously some threat to these guys, someone with more power who’s pulling the strings. That might mean they don’t want to be doing this.
I have to believe they aren’t really a threat to me as long as I play along. I’ll be safe and so will the crew as long as they get away with what they need and get it delivered.
But this man is definitely a threat to me in a whole
other way. The sharp lines of his chest, abs, and those damn V things on his hips that drive women mindless are making it impossible for me to keep my head on straight. All the ink covering his body muddles together, and I can’t focus on a single area.
I should be paying better attention. Memorizing his tattoos so I can go to the police with a good description, but my brain won’t let me focus. All I can see is the crew flying overboard into the lake…
If I help him, if I cooperate, they won’t hurt me. They won’t hurt the crew. He said they wouldn’t as long as we play their game.
They will let me go eventually.
Who the hell knows why I’m so sure of that, but I am. Maybe it’s that damn naïvety again.
I stand and step up to him. Warmth radiates from his hard body mere inches from mine. “Fine, I’ll help you to protect myself and the crew, but don’t try anything. And you better release me the fucking second we are free of the Coast Guard.”
A look of relief overtakes his face. “I promise, as soon as we are safe, I’ll even drop you off wherever you want to go.”
Maybe this won’t even last the forty-eight hours. Maybe, by helping, I can end this even sooner.
He turns and heads toward the bedroom in the back of the cabin. He pulls a key from his back pocket and unlocks the door. It opens into an elegant bedroom.
He kicks off his boots, climbs onto the bed, drops his head on the pillows, and watches me expectantly. “I promise I won’t do anything.”
Damn right you won’t.
This man may be insanely sexy, but he’s also the enemy.
Danger, Grace. Danger.
I remove my shoes and toss them onto a pile with his. I survey him, and my stomach rolls slightly. With his hands tucked behind his head like that, his biceps bulge in a disgustingly hot way.
Cool your jets, girl. This is not a seduction. He kidnapped you.
Regardless of how I got here, the reality is, there’s no way the Coast Guard will buy we’re fooling around if I’m fully clothed.
My hands shake trying to pull off my shirt. Tears pool in my eyes. My chest tightens.
