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Hot Number Page 19

by Sheridon Smythe


  A loud ripping, grating sound coming from the wall behind her.

  The sink beneath her shifted ominously again. Ashley tried to focus on the strange phenomenon, but she was being sucked under a current of pure pleasure.

  The sink shifted again, and Ashley, in the throes of an earth-shattering orgasm, finally found the presence of mind to alert Michael. She locked her arms around his neck and gasped out through a series of moans and screams, “Michael, the sink—"

  As if he had been aware of the impending catastrophe all along, he lifted her up and swung her around to the opposite wall just as the sink came crashing to the floor. The impact snapped the plastic pipes as if they were matches. Water shot toward the ceiling and rained down over their heads.

  Within seconds, they were soaked.

  Ashley spotted a stack of wash cloths on the shelf above the bathtub. Still breathing hard, she wiggled free of Michael's arms and grabbed a handful of the cloths, stuffing the ends into the spewing pipes. It stopped the gushing, but water continued to gurgle from the pipes, flooding the floor.

  Michael took her arm and stepped over the sink, slipping through the gap in the door and pulling her with him.

  "Michael ... we can't just leave it,” she protested.

  He pulled her, stumbling through the clothes-littered floor without pause, throwing over his shoulder, “What reason could we give them for being in Tanya's cabin?"

  Ashley found that she didn't have the breath left to answer. She was literally dragged down the thankfully deserted hall to their cabin door.

  "Michael, what—"

  He opened the door and pulled her inside. Leaning against it, he wiped at his dripping face and stared at her.

  To Ashley's amazement, he began to laugh.

  "Michael! We just destroyed a bathroom because of our—of our animalistic urges. I don't find it funny!"

  But Michael, apparently, did. He continued to laugh, his gaze skimming her body. He pointed at her as he gasped out, “You—you look like a drowned rat—"

  His laughter halted abruptly.

  Ashley frowned and followed his gaze to her feet.

  Her bare feet.

  "I left my ... shoes in Tanya's cabin,” she said unnecessarily.

  Sobering swiftly, Michael said, “Yes, you did.” He folded his arms over his rock-hard chest. “Okay. Here's the plan. Tanya gave me her key to give to you. You took her up on her offer, and went to her cabin. You got something in your eye, and climbed onto the sink to get a closer look."

  "Oh, that's just great. Send me back to face the music."

  Michael's brow rose at her injured tone. “You have a better plan?"

  "Yes. How about you go?” She folded her arms and eyed his two-hundred pound frame. “It would sound more believable coming from you, Michael."

  "And what about your shoes? How would I explain their presence in Tanya's cabin?"

  Ashley's smile was impish. “Um, you were wearing them?” His instant scowl made her laugh outright. “How do we get ourselves into these messes?” she asked.

  His eyes darkened as they drifted over her body. Her dress lay plastered to her skin, outlining her pebbled nipples, her taut belly, and the gentle flare of her hips. “Because you're irresistible,” he said, and sounded as if he meant it.

  She rolled her eyes, not daring to take him seriously. “Try again.” Wearing a purposeful expression, he shoved away from the door and started in her direction. She quickly threw up a hand in surrender, laughing. “Okay, okay! I believe you. Now go before the water floods the entire deck!"

  His laugh held a knowing quality that was pure Michael as he turned back to the door. Just as he reached for the knob, someone knocked.

  They froze. Ashley sidled up behind him, pressing against his back as she whispered fearfully, “Maybe someone saw us leaving the scene of the accident."

  Michael turned his head slightly to whisper back, “If it is, you were already there and I came to talk to you after our fight. We ended up in the bathroom ... making up."

  Ashley shook her head so violently her wet hair slapped him in the neck. “No way, Michael! I'm not going to humiliate myself by confessing what really happened. Anything but that."

  "Chicken."

  "Damned right,” she whispered. “It's bad enough that some creep has been recording our every move inside this cabin. I'm not about to tell the staff we broke their sink making out on it."

  She saw the corner of his mouth tip upward, and her heart gave a funny little leap at the sight.

  The knock came again, followed by Deckland's urgent voice. “Michael? Ashley? Are you in there?"

  Since she was plastered against him—literally, considering they were both soaked—she felt him sag with her. Her eyes widened as Michael reached for the door. “Michael, don't!

  I'm—"

  The door swung open before she could finish. Deckland stood in the doorway. Hovering behind him, Ashley could see a white-faced Bart, and an equally pale Tanya.

  Birdie was nowhere in sight, which immediately struck Ashley as odd. She rarely saw one without the other.

  Deckland stepped into the cabin, forcing Michael and Ashley to move back and let them in. Ashley stayed hidden behind Michael, mentally preparing an explanation for their soggy state.

  When they were all crowded inside, Deckland closed the door, his grim expression chilling Ashley to the bone. Suddenly, she knew what he had to say wasn't going to be pleasant, and it had nothing to do with Tanya's mangled plumbing.

  They didn't even seem to notice that she and Michael were dripping on the carpet.

  "We have some really disturbing news to share with you,” Deckland said, glancing in Bart's direction.

  Ashley followed his lead. Bart looked as if he were on the verge of going into shock. He was so pale he looked gray. With a shaking hand, he shoved a lock of white hair from his brow. His blood-shot eyes filled with tears.

  "Birdie's been taken,” he said in a quavering voice.

  "Taken?” Michael repeated. “What do you mean, she was taken? By whom?"

  In the grip of a horrifying premonition, Ashley forgot to hide behind Michael. She stepped up to Bart and took his trembling hand. “Tell us, Bart. What's happened to Birdie?"

  "She's—she's been kidnapped!"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Who would...” Ashley's voice trailed away. She looked at Michael, wondering if he was thinking what she was thinking.

  The missing jewelry.

  The small video camera in the vent shaft.

  Now Birdie had been kidnapped.

  Slowly, she turned back to Bart, wincing at his pallor. She led him to the bed and gave him a gentle push. Without taking her eyes from him, she instructed Michael to get him a shot of whiskey from the mini bar. “Tell us everything, Bart. And take your time."

  The old man's hands were shaking so badly the small amount of whiskey in the bottom of the glass leaped and danced along the sides. He brought it to his mouth, taking a fortifying gulp.

  Whisky dripped from his chin, but he didn't seem to notice. Ashley took the end of her wet dress and wiped it away.

  "One minute she was behind me, and the next she was gone,” Bart whispered, staring into space. He looked so lost and forlorn. “I searched and searched—came all the way back to the boat looking for her. Calling her name.” He shook his head and a fat tear rolled down his lined cheek. “I was in the process of looking in every shop when this kid came up to me and gave me a note, said a man had paid him to deliver it."

  Michael, who had come to stand beside Ashley, asked urgently, “Did the kid give you a description of this guy?"

  Bart shook his head. Another fat tear rolled down to join the first. “When I tried to ask him questions, he just turned tail and ran.” He sniffed and hung his head, his voice breaking. “I don't have that kind of cash. He—he said he'd kill her."

  "Let me see the note,” Michael ordered. W
hen Bart handed him the crumpled piece of paper, he held it so that Ashley could read it with him.

  "They want ten thousand dollars,” Ashley said, stunned. “And they want it by noon tomorrow.” She clutched Michael's arm, staring into his grim face. “Michael, do you think this is the same person that stole our jewelry?"

  "What? What's this about stolen jewelry?” Deckland asked, coming forward.

  Ashley quickly explained about the video camera and the missing jewelry. In light of this new development, it was obvious they were no longer suspects. “Michael thinks it's someone who knows I won the lottery,” she concluded with a shiver. “To plant the video camera, they would have had to know about me before the ship set sail."

  "But if it's the same person, why would they give the ransom note to Bart instead of you?"

  Deckland had a point, Ashley mused. “Well, if they've been observing us ... then they've noticed that we've become friends. They probably knew that Bart would come to us."

  "That's a little iffy, don't you think?” Tanya asked.

  "I wouldn't have,” Bart inserted quickly, sounding both embarrassed and desperate. “If I had the money, I wouldn't have bothered anyone."

  "Nonsense, Bart. We're your friends, and Birdie's life is at stake.” Ashley emphasized her sincerity by patting his shoulder.

  Bart took a deep, shuddering breath. “What am I going to do?"

  "I suggested he go to the local police,” Deckland said.

  "No!” Bart sounded frantic. “He said no police. He'll kill her, I know it!"

  "He's right,” Tanya said. “We can't take that chance, not until we get Birdie back. I've got about a thousand dollars in cash.” She shuddered and hugged herself. “God, this sounds like a bad movie!"

  "Amen,” Ashley muttered. “I've got two thousand and some change. There's an ATM machine in the casino. I should be able to get another four hundred. I think that's the most they'll give me in one day."

  "You can have what I've got,” Deckland said. “Which is about six hundred in cash. The rest of my money is plastic."

  "I've got the rest."

  Michael's quiet announcement floored Ashley. She was speechless for a moment. “You—you mean, after the lecture you gave me about bringing that much cash, that you've got six thousand dollars on you?"

  He actually had the grace to blush. “I wanted to be prepared. Besides, I'm a man. There's a difference—"

  "Don't even go there, buddy,” Tanya warned.

  And then Ashley remembered that he'd been expecting Candy to join him. The reminder left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it explained why Michael had brought along so much cash.

  Even so, she would have felt a lot better if Michael had been the one doing the dumping. But this wasn't about her feelings, she reminded herself.

  She mustered an encouraging smile for Bart's benefit. “So you've got your money. Soon we'll have Birdie back safe and sound."

  "I—I don't know how I can ever repay all of you,” Bart said, his voice breaking. “When we get back home, we can get a second mortgage on our house—"

  "No,” Michael said, his voice flat and final. “At least, don't mortgage your house on my account. I won't miss the money."

  "Neither will I,” Ashley added, although she did wonder about Michael's generosity. Was his business doing that well, then? When they were married, he'd made a decent income from his health clubs, but nothing mind-boggling. Not the kind of money that would allow him to carry around six thousand dollars as if it were pocket change.

  Kim's hint came back to her. “It's about money, and that's all I can say."

  "Count me out, too,” Tanya said, although she sounded less convincing.

  Deckland added his assurance that Bart didn't have to worry about paying him back. “Now that we've gotten that out of the way, who's going to take the money to the drop off spot?"

  "I am,” Bart said, sounding stronger by the minute. “I have to. I don't want to take any chances. And afterward, I'm not going to the authorities, either."

  "Why not?” Michael asked, voicing a question Ashley was certain they all wanted to ask.

  "Because we don't know who he is. He—he might be someone on the ship, and if we report this, he might decide to hurt Birdie.” Bart hesitated, glancing slowly around at the grim faces surrounding him before he added, “Or come after one of us."

  "He's making sense,” Tanya said. “Maybe we should just pay the money, get Birdie back, and forget about it."

  Ashley knew without looking that Michael didn't agree.

  "I don't like the idea of this slime ball getting away with it,” he growled. “That just encourages him to do it again and again."

  Bart staggered to his feet. Ashley reached out to steady him, truly concerned for his health. He wasn't a young man.

  She hated to think how frightened Birdie must be. God, what kind of sicko would kidnap an old woman?

  "We're talking about my wife,” Bart said. “I'm not taking any chances with her. She's too precious to me."

  "Of course she is.” Ashley shot Michael a quelling look. He scowled back at her, but remained silent on the subject. She turned back to Bart. “We should concentrate on getting the money together. Then we should probably go ashore and act natural. If he's—if he's watching, it's important for him to see that we didn't go to the authorities."

  "Bad as I hate to admit it,” Deckland said, “I think Ashley's right. We don't know who he is. He could be a steward or someone who works in the casinos. He could be anybody."

  "Shut up, Deckland,” Tanya said, shivering again. “You're giving me the creeps. By the way, mind if I share a room with you tonight?"

  Deckland eased the tension by slanting her a mocking leer. “It would be my pleasure."

  Tanya's eyes narrowed in warning. “Don't get any ideas, buster, or you'll get what—” she broke off abruptly, biting her lip. She darted an apologetic glance at Ashley. “Sorry, Ash. I didn't mean to bring that up."

  "It's okay.” Ashley was surprised to discover that she meant it. It was okay, because she believed Michael when he insisted he wouldn't have slept with Tanya.

  She was either losing her mind or learning to trust him.

  She didn't know which possibility frightened her the most.

  "Let's gather the money and take it with us,” Michael said, stalking to the closet. “Just in case we're dealing with two slime balls instead of one.” He withdrew a suitcase and set it on the bed. When he popped the lock, the lid sprang open, revealing an empty suitcase.

  As Ashley watched, he lifted the bottom liner out, revealing neat stacks of cash.

  "Clever,” Deckland observed.

  Tanya came closer, whistling low. “I don't think I've ever seen that much cash at one time."

  "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough,” Bart began in a humble voice.

  He didn't get far.

  "Don't mention it."

  "No problem."

  "Forget it."

  Ashley patted his arm, touched by his humbleness. “Bart, we all know you would do the same for us, so please, stop worrying about thanking us."

  While Michael stuffed the money in an empty duffle bag, Ashley retrieved her stash of cash and added it to the bag. “We can stop at Deckland's cabin along the way."

  "Then mine,” Tanya said.

  Michael cleared his throat and stared hard at Ashley. She blinked, then her eyes widened as she remembered. “Er, you might feel safer sending Michael in,” she suggested, her face heating up as erotic memories assaulted her. She didn't think she'd ever be able to brush her teeth over a sink without remembering.

  Tanya wasn't inclined to argue. “Good idea. I wasn't looking forward to going in there alone anyway."

  Deckland's cabin was to the left and Tanya's to the right, which was also the way out. They waited outside as Deckland retrieved his money, and then continued on to Tanya's cabin. Michael took her key. When he opened the door, he quickly stepped inside
and shut it behind him.

  Ashley let out a slow breath of relief. So far the water hadn't reached the hall, but she knew that they would have to get word to someone or the entire lower deck would soon be flooded. But how? How could they alert the staff without alerting the others?

  By the time Michael emerged, she still hadn't arrived at a solution. She tried to catch his eye, but he appeared to be too preoccupied to notice. They came to the end of the hall and turned the corner, starting up the short flight of stairs leading to the upper deck.

  Michael suddenly stopped. The entire group stopped with him. It was as if they were all attached at the hips, Ashley thought, grabbing the guard rail to keep from bumping into Deckland.

  "I left my cell phone in my room,” Michael announced, giving Ashley a meaningful look. “We might need it."

  She read the silent message he sent her, her shoulders sagging in relief. He had figured out a way of reporting the water leak without alerting the others. “We'll wait here,” she said before anyone else had a chance to open their mouths. As antsy as they all were, Ashley wouldn't have been surprised if they insisted on walking back with Michael. She was reminded of a group of teenagers prowling through a haunted house.

  The moment he disappeared from sight, a big, burly steward appeared at the top of the stairs. He came to an abrupt halt, frowning at the tight-knit group clogging the stairs.

  Tanya lifted her big, frightened eyes and muffled a shriek with her hand at the sight of him. Bart turned a few shades paler and flattened his body against the wall next to Tanya. Deckland moved in front of Tanya and Bart, apparently feeling the need to take over Michael's unofficial role as leader.

  Which left Ashley alone on the opposite side of the stairwell. Alone and unhappy. She glanced in the direction Michael had taken, then looked at the steward again. They were all being hopelessly paranoid, she suspected.

  The suspicion didn't help slow the erratic pounding of her heart.

  She mustered a polite smile. “We're, um, waiting on a friend,” she explained to the steward, who was now staring at them with narrow-eyed suspicion. Was it any wonder? Ashley thought, looking from Tanya's terrified face to Bart's pale expression, to Deckland's belligerent stance.

 

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