The message was clear, and though it shocked Kristin at first, she knew she could accept it. His eyes were telling her many things. But most of all, they were saying this: There is nothing we can do. We’re going to die. Accept it with the courage I know you have. Then, once you do that, we can move on from this fear of dying ... to making the most of our last minutes together.
She shut her eyes tightly, not knowing if she was really able to bear up under it. She was not as strong as he. But then she felt a peace come over her, transmitted to her by the firm, caring way his hands held hers. She opened her eyes and looked at him. And she nodded.
He rewarded her with a smile. I knew you had it in you, his smile said. I knew you wouldn’t let me down just because it’s the end.
Now that the unsaid words were understood, now that they could both accept their fate without flinching, Hunter moved on to the words that could be said.
“Kristin, there’s something I want to tell you. I wasn’t going to say it to you now, but . . . well, it looks like it’s now or never.”
“What is it?” she asked softly.
“When I brought you back from Europe and put you on that train to California, the way I was acting, it was a lie. You thought I didn’t love you anymore. Babe. . . .” He smiled gently, and shook his head. “I couldn’t stop loving you if my life depended on it. You had a hard time after Chad died, and you reacted badly to it. But you snapped back to form. I didn’t stop loving you then. I’ll never stop loving you.”
“You . . . you seemed so cold at the train station.” “I wanted you on that train. I didn’t want you hanging around with me in New York, where you’d be in danger from Ironman. The best bet for getting you far away from here, I thought, was to make it seem as if there were nothing for you to stay for. Not my love, or anything else.” He grinned. “As usual, I misjudged your pigheaded stubbornness. I’ll bet you don’t even have relatives in California, do you?”
She shook her head and tried to smile.
Hunter became solemn for a moment. His face was very serious. He glanced at the locked cabin door, as if wondering how long it would be before Ironman would come for them. “Babe, I’m going to feel silly saying what I want to say to you, because it’s not my style to talk this way. But ... I want you to know how I feel, whether it makes me feel silly or not.”
She squeezed his hands, encouraging him. She let her eyes encourage him too.
“I wish I was a poet,” Dallas Hunter said. “Because what I feel for you is poetic. Or what I think poetry is all about. A bum like me, what do I know about poetry? But when I look at you like this, babe . . . when I think of all the deep emotions, all the protective, loving feelings I have for you, it’s like I want to crush you inside me.
“I never felt emotions like these before,” Hunter went on. “You’re so ... so much of everything I ever wanted in a girl. So spirited, so lovely, inside and out.
You’re so wonderfully right for me. . . .” His words trailed off, and he looked embarrassed. He shook his head.
“What is it?” she asked softly.
He grinned at her. “I told you I’m no poet. This sounds corny as hell.”
“It sounds wonderful.”
“It sounds ridiculous! Listen. Words aren’t going to do it for me. But I want you to know how I feel about you. It’s like I’m going to explode with love for you.” He had not used that word to her since that time on Ana Pris Island so long ago, before that horrible misunderstanding that had driven them apart. Kristin felt soft and warm at hearing that word from him and seeing the word echoed in the intense way he gazed at her.
He pulled her against him. He looked her in the eyes, and she understood what he wanted. She returned his look proudly, her chin high, defiant against the forces of the world that sought to tear them apart. They’d show the world! Together, the two of them, they’d show the world.
“Yes,” she whispered, understanding what he wanted. One last time. One last time.
His eyes never left her face as his fingers began tracing the outline of her chin, her lips, her eyes. Then his mouth parted and moved forward, and she felt his warm lips upon her cheek . . . her forehead . . . her ear and eyes and then, lastly, her yearning mouth.
The kiss was wonderful, more glorious than any she had ever experienced. His arms were around her, holding her slender body against the hard strength of his. His hands moved along her back, touching her, pressing over her shoulder blades and spine and derrière, up and down, leisurely, possessively.
Kristin was breathing rapidly and shallowly with the excitement of the emotions she felt. It was not only her passion that made her feel this way, but more. It was the fullness of her love for him, and the warm, comforting aura of his love for her, which enveloped her, surrounded her. She let her hands roam over his shoulders and upper arms, squeezing Ms muscles, feeling the hardness of him.
Their kissing had become passionate and intense by now, without her being aware of the change. His hips were pressing hard against hers. He could feel her own answering pressure. Kristin put her hands under his black sweater and let them roam up his flat, hard stomach, over the curly haired plane of his chest. She began tugging at his sweater to make him take it off.
He stepped back from her. He jerked his sweater off and then undressed fully. Before coming to her, he grabbed the single chair in the room and wedged its back against the doorknob, blocking the door from opening.
He came to her. She felt his hands on her clothing, quickly, surely, removing every stitch. When she stood before him stark-naked, her skin was tingling, and her nipples were erect. Every inch of her flesh seemed alive with vibrant sensation. His hands moved over her breasts, along her flanks, touching her everywhere, gently at first, but then becoming more demanding and insistent as he became lost to his passion.
Her own hands, too, seemed motivated by a will of their own, for they were rubbing all over his hard body. She could not keep her hands off him. When she let her hands glide down over his hard stomach and hold the hard fullness of him, she heard him gasp with pleasure and saw his eyes half close. She turned her head up, standing on tiptoes, and nibbled at his lips.
He bent down and put his arm under the back of her knees, then lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bunk. He lay her down on the soft cover. His mouth began traveling all over her body, lighting fires that ravaged her. Her nipples ached with pleasure, and his lips came to warm them, to tease them even further aflame. His lips traveled over her stomach, lower still, then his face was down at the most sacred part of her.
She began panting and moaning, whipping her head from side to side as the incredible pleasure ravaged her, building to a monumental intensity. She stopped him before it was too late, pulling at him, making him take his face away from the blessed torture he was causing her. She made him come up onto the bed with her, so that they were face to face. And then their eyes locked once more.
One last time, she thought. One . . . final . . . time . . . before they died.
When their bodies finally came together and moved together, it was as if the heavens had parted and taken them in. As if they were floating freely through the spectacular star specked sky, their bodies joined in eternal bliss, the coolness of the heavens surrounding them as they sped across the universe.
Because it was the last time, there was no sense in holding back. Kristin gave herself to him more fully than she ever had before. She had thought she’d given herself completely before, but now she knew she was wrong. Nothing that ever happened previously was like this. They were one! Their eyes were open, locked on each other, aware of the endless love and immense, incredible caring they had for each other . . . aware of the white-hot pleasure they were giving each other as they shared this moment.
Their bodies moved in tormenting, liberating, joyous union. Kristin thought she would burst into tears at the look in his eyes, at the sight of him loving her so deeply. The scent of him was in her nostrils, the taste of
him on her lips and tongue, the force of his essence driving high up into her. And then, when she saw him surrender helplessly to the pleasure she was giving him, she could not stop from bursting into tears. “Oh, Dallas!” she cried.
He crushed her against him as he peaked within her. “My love!” he groaned from deep in his throat. He grasped her for dear life, squeezing her so tightly, she could not breathe as he shuddered and flowed within her, giving her himself, all of him. He had never before let her see the intensity of the emotions he felt. This was his gift to her, letting her see the fullness of his caring, without attempts to disguise it behind a wall of masculine hardness.
And seeing it, hearing these words, feeling the quaking of his body against her tender flesh, she too soared over the peak and exploded into an ecstasy of blinding lights and brilliant sensations and wave after wave of unceasing pleasure. His love was ravaging her, his very love! His love was a torrent guiding her, molding her, caressing her.
When it was over, Kristin could almost not believe she was still on earth. The moment had been too spectacular, too perfect to be followed by an earthly reality. But when she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, she knew that this was perfect too. He kissed her on the lips. And then he kissed the tears away from her eyes. She had not even been aware that she was crying.
She did not ask him what was next. She followed his lead. He did not make any effort to get up and dress; so she did not either. They lay in bed, touching, caressing, gazing at each other. Then, when the sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, Hunter stood up from the bed.
Keys jiggled in the lock, and the handle was turned. The door remained closed, though, due to the wedged chair. Hunter handed Kristin her clothes. They dressed in silence, while beyond the door, Riggio was shouting, “Hey! What’s going on in there? What kind of stunt is this?”
When they were dressed, Hunter opened the door. Kristin had an intuition of what Hunter would do—if not now, then later. He was not the kind of man who would sit back and let them choose their own time and method. He would attack, even though there was no chance of success. He would go down fighting, she knew that. And she made a decision that she would follow his lead in this too. What a grand, crazy finale that would be! How startled Ironman would be to see the two of them hopelessly, futilely rush his army of gangsters, like lemmings swimming in a suicide mission upstream.
“Come on, come on,” ordered Riggio. “I ain’t got all day.” He motioned Hunter and Kristin out of the cabin. Three henchmen were in the doorway, all carrying weapons.
They went out of the cabin, down the corridor, then up on the deck. Riggio led the way; Hunter and Kristin followed. And behind them were the others. Waiting on the deck to greet them was Ironman, wearing his vested pinstripe suit. His slicked-back hair was uncovered, his face grim. Behind him the sky was blushing powder blue with dawn. It was chilly out, and the salty sea air swept in on the breeze.
Ironman folded his arms across his chest and looked at Hunter and Kristin, allowing himself to smile maliciously. “I’m finally getting rid of you, Dallas. You been nothing but a pain to me for way too long. You federal turncoat! And you, Kristin, you could have had it so good as my moll.” He shook his head commiseratingly. “But, no, you had to try to put one over on me. Well, now you both come to what you been asking for.” He looked over the side of the ship, into the sea.
Kristin looked too. She saw two fins breaking the surface of the water, circling around.
Ironman called to one of his men on top of the forward cabin. “Go ahead! I want to make sure they’re hungry!” The man reached into the bucket he was holding and pulled out a big hunk of red meat taken from the ship’s galley. He tossed it out into the sea. Immediately the fins converged on it. Enormous jaws broke the water as one of the sharks showed its fearsome head for the first time. There was a loud snap, and the meat disappeared. The sharks dove to fight over the catch.
When Ironman grinned at Kristin and Hunter, there was evil in his eyes. “I don’t have to worry about any traces of you two showing up as incriminating evidence. I brought you this far out into shark waters just to make sure. And I’m sure.”
Kristin saw Hunter’s jaw tense, and she sensed that he was about to charge Ironman. It would be futile.
The men on board all had their weapons in hand and were watching Hunter, just waiting for him to try something like this. But Kristin thought, What did it matter? Better to die trying to kill human scum like Ironman than to docilely let themselves be fed to the sharks. She watched Hunter closely, her mind made up. She would charge forward at the same instant he did to do whatever damage she could with her nails and teeth before they. . . .
“Ship aho! Ship aho!” shouted one of the henchmen, pointing off to the starboard side.
“That’s ahoy, stupid,” said Riggio.
“What do you want from me? I’m no damn sailor.
I'm—"
m—
“Shut up!” roared Ironman. He peered into the distance at the approaching ship, frustrated and furious that his plans were being interfered with, even though he was sure it was only temporarily. All eyes turned to look at the approaching ship, which was yet only a speck on the horizon. The ship closed toward them fast though, and soon they could make out its markings.
“Boss!” exclaimed Riggio. “It’s that one with the golden hull. The one we saw heading in our direction when we first left shore!”
From farther away down the deck one of Ironman’s henchmen said accusatively to another, “The harbor fights reflecting off the water, you said! Diffusing through the fog, you said!”
“Ah, shut up,” growled the other.
Everyone watched the ship come closer. Ironman ordered three of his men down to the Daisy's armory to get the Tommy guns in case they were needed. At the moment, his men carried only pistols. Tension was electric in the air as all eyes focused on the approaching golden-hulled craft.
“Boss,” said Riggio nervously, nodding toward Kristin and Hunter. “Do we dump these two to the sharks?” “Not now, you fool. Wait till we pull away from that ship. You think we want witnesses!”
Kristin was the first to recognize the ship, though she was not quite sure. The outline of it was very familiar, but the color was so strange. Then she remembered: McShane had repainted the Kristy to erase memories of her personal touch. “Sean,” she whispered.
“So what the hell is it?” Ironman shouted to no one in particular. “Whose is it?”
The Daisy's captain leaned out of the pilot shack and shouted down from the bridge. “She’s not responding to radio contact!”
“Boss,” said Riggio uncertainly, “it’s not . . . you don’t think it could be that ship Kristin here owned with that partner, do you? The one that was interfering with our casino operations?”
It was impossible to tell clearly, for the ship was racing through the sea straight toward them, with only the front of its bow and its narrowest profile visible. But soon the ship was close enough so that figures could be detected on board. Kristin was amazed and jubilant to see that the foremost figure at the front of the ship, his leg raised up on the railing, holding a Tommy gun toward the sky, was Sean McShane. Crazily, he wore his Mounted Police uniform. It was only the second time she had ever seen him wear it. His face was not yet clearly visible, but his burly, muscular body and arrogant bearing were unmistakable, as were the crimson coat and flat-brimmed hat.
“It’s that damn Mountie!” said Ironman, amazed. “What the hell is this, anyway?”
Riggio shook his head, dumbfounded.
One thing was clear. The men aboard the oncoming Kristy had weapons and intended to use them. “Prepare to open fire!” Ironman ordered. “Captain, get this damn tub moving!” A burst of activity erupted aboard the ship. The men returning from the armory were besieged by the others now, who quickly grabbed the arriving Tommy guns. Ironman’s men fanned out along the length of the starboard side, from which McShane’s ship w
as approaching.
The engines aboard the Daisy sprang to life with a rumble and a roar, and the ship began moving forward,very slowly at first. Ironman said to Kristin, “Your boyfriend there ain’t going to save you. Don’t get your hopes up. We got some big engines here. A ship like your Kristy’s got maybe half as much horsepower. That’s why it took so long for them to catch up to us. We outdistanced ’em. And we’ll do it again too! There’s no way they can stop us.”
Kristin watched tensely as the Kristy approached. She feared Ironman was right. She stepped close to Hunter, who put his arm around her waist. They both watched McShane’s ship approach.
“Is there anything he can do?” she asked Hunter. Hunter’s eyes did not leave the approaching ship. “He can’t catch us if he lets us reach full power. Ironman’s right about that. If Ironman hadn’t kept slowing the Daisy earlier so he could entice the sharks to us with his meat bait, and if he hadn’t come to a full stop now, your Mountie would never have gotten this close. He must have seen us being taken aboard the Daisy and been trying to catch up to us ever since.” Hunter paused. “He’s got to reach us before we get up to full power, or he never will.”
“Get ready, men!” Ironman shouted.
McShane was close enough now so that it was only seconds before the ships would rendezvous. Ironman was clearly not worried though, and in fact was relishing the approaching encounter. He knew that all the Mountie could do would be run alongside for a minute or two and exchange gunfire with the Daisy. Then, within two minutes—probably even less—the Daisy would reach full speed and would outdistance the Kristy. McShane could never catch up to them again once that happened.
“He’s got no hope,” chortled Ironman. He looked at Kristin and Hunter. “And neither have you. Soon as we get away from here, it’s over the side with both of you. No more fooling around.”
Kristin saw Hunter staring up at the pilot’s bridge, and she knew he was considering making a dash for it to try to reach the controls and reverse the engines. She put her hand through his arm, though, holding him. She knew he could not make it. Ironman’s henchmen were all up and down the length of the ship. Hunter might pass three or four of them, but he’d never pass all of the men who stood between here and the pilot shack.
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