Nadia smiled.
She held up her hand and Dante saw she wasn’t holding a gun. It wasn’t a gun at all. His heart froze as he stared at the little black box.
“See, now that’s funny,” Nadia said, waggling the remote. “Because I was thinking just the opposite. Today isn’t your day.”
She slowly unzipped her jacket to reveal the belt of explosives fastened around her waist. “Today just ain’t your day at all.”
For a long moment, no one said a word. No one moved and maybe no one even breathed. Then Vandergriff broke the silence.
“You’re bluffing,” he sputtered.
“Try me,” Nadia said with more confidence than she felt. “What have I got to lose?”
Vandergriff managed a laugh. “You won’t blow us up. You’d kill yourself and your boyfriend too.”
She pretended to mull it over. “But, golly gee, I would be taking you with us. It might just be worth it. Besides, look at my alternative. I will never be your slave. I would rather die than let you touch me. And Dante … Dante would die anyway.”
“She’s bluffing,” Vandergriff turned and told his men, but he wasn’t looking too sure of himself anymore.
With her other hand, Nadia tugged her ski mask the rest of the way off and tossed it on the floor. Shaking her hair free, she said, “You know, there was some truth in all those lies you told Dante. You might not be my father, but you’re the one who made me. You stole my childhood. You’ve made my parents live in fear behind iron gates. And if you don’t think I can be as cold and ruthless as you are, why don’t you just step up and see? I’ve got enough explosives here to blow this whole place off the map.”
“What do you want?”
“What I want and what I’m demanding are two different things. I want you dead, but I’m demanding safe passage out of here, with Dante. Cut him loose, Vandergriff.”
No one moved. Vandergriff’s men looked at him uncertainly.
“Do it,” Nadia said. Her thumb poised over the red button. “Or so help me, I will.”
Vandergriff stared at her for a long moment. Then he nodded. One of the men stepped forward, but Nadia held up her hand and shook her head. Pointing at Vandergriff, she said, “No, I told you, I want you to do it.”
Glaring at her, Vandergriff advanced toward Dante. He unsheathed the knife on his belt and squatted to cut the rope around Dante’s wrists.
Nadia was afraid to look directly at them, afraid one of Vandergriff’s men would try something. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Dante struggle to stand. His legs wouldn’t support him.
“Nadia,” Dante said, and the frustration in his voice broke her heart. “I can’t do this. I can’t walk. Leave me and get out of here.”
“Not a chance, babe,” she said breezily. “We’re a team now. Butch and Sundance. Bonnie and Clyde—”
“Slick and princess,” Dante supplied. She heard the smile in his voice and wanted to look at him, but she didn’t dare turn her back on Vandergriff’s men.
“There ya go,” Nadia said, and nodded at the five men. “All of you, hands against the wall. Spread your feet. We’re going to do this slow, one man at a time. You—” She pointed at Peterson. “Empty the clip on your gun and walk slowly toward me.”
Peterson glanced at Vandergriff, and Vandergriff nodded. Peterson ejected the clip and walked toward Nadia with his hands raised above his head.
“Are you packing another piece?”
He nodded. “Ankle holster.”
“Take it off. Slow.” He did as she instructed and she made a show of patting him down, her eyes never leaving Vandergriff’s face. He stood braced against the wall, his icy blue eyes tracking her like a snake.
“Take off your shirt,” she told Peterson. “I want you to go around and collect all the ammunition in it. Lay the guns beside it.”
“No way, that’s not happening,” Vandergriff said immediately. “My men aren’t going to disarm. That would be suicide. You have my word, no one will take a shot at you.”
“Your word?” Nadia said, and rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, like that means anything to me. Come here, Vandergriff.”
“No.”
Nadia felt a twisted sense of pleasure at the fear in his voice. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine.
“I told you, all I want is safe passage to my boat, so you’re going to be my shield, should one of your boys here get any ideas.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Shut up. That’s not negotiable.” Nadia glanced at Peterson. “You’re going to help Dante. The rest of you, lead the way. I’m a little jumpy, so don’t try anything funny unless you want to be a headline in tomorrow’s paper.”
She grabbed Vandergriff’s shoulder and twisted him roughly around. Slipping her fingers through his back belt loop, Nadia jerked him close to her. Sweat dampened his shirt and Nadia could almost smell his fear.
“What’s the matter, lover boy?” she whispered in his ear. “I thought you wanted to get close to me.”
He growled, low in his throat, and she laughed. She gave the place a final glance, then prodded him toward the door.
As Nadia marched them across the yard, she stared at the back of Vandergriff’s head and fantasized about his death.
What a macabre little parade we are, she thought, when they began the slow, steep trek down the wooden steps.
The storm clouds were rolling off, allowing a little moonlight to peek through. It wasn’t much, however, and the darkness made Nadia nervous. She squinted ahead, trying to watch the armed men in front while hiding behind Vandergriff.
The walk down the narrow steps to the dock was torturously slow. Nadia had to worry not only about the men in front of her but also anyone who might be slipping up behind.
Finally, they stood in front of the boats. Nadia gave Vandergriff a shove that sent him sprawling across the wooden dock. He flipped over on his back and glared at her with murder in his eyes.
“Huh uh.” She waved the remote. “Be nice.”
She looked at Peterson. “Are you as ready as I am to get out of here? Help Dante onto the boat.”
Without looking at Vandergriff, Peterson did as she commanded, struggling under Dante’s weight. Nadia carefully climbed in behind them, never taking her eyes off Vandergriff and his companions.
“Now, Peterson!” Vandergriff shouted, when Nadia turned her back to the man.
Nadia smiled when Peterson replied, “Sorry. I forgot to tell you, Mr. Vandergriff. I quit.”
Shock dawned on Vandergriff’s face.
“Go!” she yelled at Peterson.
When the boat pulled away from the island, Nadia blew Vandergriff a kiss. She had to laugh at the look of impotent rage she received in return.
“Go, go, go!” she shouted and, as expected, his men were already climbing into their boats by the time Peterson rounded the first bend in the river.
Vandergriff was coming after them. No big surprise.
He knew she wouldn’t blow herself up unless she was sure to take him with her. On the water, his gunmen would try to take her out at a safer distance. And he was certainly mad enough to give it a try.
“Are you guys okay?” She dropped the remote on the seat beside her and crawled over to where Dante lay in the bottom of the boat.
“Easy there, princess,” he said, staring at the remote.
“What?” She grinned. “Are you worried about this little thing?”
Nadia picked it up and pressed the button.
Dante stared at Nadia in horrified disbelief. Somehow the realization that she’d bluffed her way out of there with nothing at all was more frightening than the thought of actual explosives.
She tossed the remote to him and watched for Vandergriff’s men, her dark hair whipping in the wind.
With an impish smile, she said, “I have no idea what that goes to. Some damn thing of Waynie’s.”
“Nadia!” Peterson yelled. “Here they come, a
nd they’re closing fast.”
The two pursuing boats ran side by side, cutting through the frothy water. Dante struggled to his elbows to see what was happening.
Peterson took a sharp turn, blowing by two fishermen who trolled near the bank. One of them lifted a walkie talkie and turned to watch them go by.
It was Ronnie.
“There!” Nadia yelled, and pointed at the houseboat.
Peterson cut their speed and idled up beside it, just as Vandergriff’s boats closed in.
A man in a straw hat and a bright Hawaiian shirt walked out on deck. In his hand, he held a remote that looked somewhat like the one Nadia had used.
Nick Branson.
Shocked, Dante glanced from Nick to Vandergriff’s approaching boat.
Vandergriff had seen him too. He waved his arms and frantically shouted orders to his men. They lifted their guns to fire at Nadia’s father.
Nick gave Vandergriff a friendly wave and pressed the button.
The world around them exploded.
CHAPTER 13
Monday, August 8
11:02 p.m.
The boat pitched violently, and Nadia almost tumbled over the side. While she clawed for a handhold, she felt Dante’s hands grasp her waist. He yanked her down on the floor beside him as a piece of metal whizzed by her head. A wall of heat slammed into them and Dante twisted to shield her with his body. Finally, the roar subsided and she heard her father shouting.
“Nadia, are you all right?” he yelled.
She tried to answer him, but her reply was muffled against Dante’s chest.
“Nadia!” he cried frantically.
Dante shifted and stared down at her. Nadia touched his face and smiled.
“She’s okay, Mr. Branson,” Dante called over his shoulder. He exhaled softly and wrapped her in his arms, planting a kiss on top of her head.
Yes, she thought, burying her face against his chest. I’m okay now.
Slowly, they sat upright. Nadia stared at the chaotic scene before them in numb detachment.
It was over. It was really over.
The water was on fire. Bright flames danced across the black water as the gasoline burned off the wreckage. Huge chunks of the debris blazed, filling the air with acrid black smoke that stung her eyes and constricted her throat. Nadia turned her face into Dante’s shirt, coughing.
“Well, come on, then,” her father said. “We’ve got to get moving.”
Something bumped against their boat and Nadia realized it was a body. It floated face down beside them.
Was it Vandergriff? Nadia craned to see, but she couldn’t tell.
From the houseboat, one of the bodyguards reached for her hands and Nadia shook her head. “Help Dante board first. He’s hurt.”
Brent nodded and Peterson helped Dante to his feet. They struggled to the helm of the boat and Nick joined the men who helped pull him aboard.
“Come on, Nadia.” Her father reached down for her. “We need to get out of here.”
Covering her face against the smoke with her jacket, Nadia nodded. She leaned over the edge of the boat and took his hands.
When Nadia stepped up onto the bow, Gary Vandergriff exploded out of the water in front of her.
He seized Nadia’s ankles and ripped her from her father’s grasp. Her fingers scraped against the side of the houseboat, seeking purchase and finding none on the slick surface. She had just enough time to suck in a breath before Vandergriff dragged her underneath the frigid water.
They shot downward, rocketing away from the surface. Nadia saw the glow from the fire for an instant and then there was nothing. Nothing but blackness.
She grappled with Vandergriff, trying to break his iron grip, but her movements felt slow and ineffective against the weight of the water. The surface was so far away.
Just when she thought he was going to drag her to the very bottom of the river, Nadia wriggled one of her legs free. She kicked viciously at the area where she thought his face might be.
Her boot made contact with something and suddenly she was free. But her relief was short-lived. Before she could kick her way to the surface, one of Vandergriff’s arms clamped around her waist.
Her lungs burned, begging for oxygen, and she nearly panicked. Frantically, she fought him—twisting, kicking, flailing.
Nadia couldn’t hold on much longer. At any moment her tortured lungs would force her to take a breath that wasn’t there.
Dante threw himself over the rail of the houseboat, his injuries forgotten in his terror. Plummeting into the cold water, he glimpsed Peterson splashing in beside him. Nick had already gone under.
Where was Nadia?
Dante opened his eyes and strained to see in the darkness. Already he sensed Peterson moving up beside him. Night diving could be a claustrophobic experience for the uninitiated. The dark water was heavy, oppressive. Smothering.
Propelling his body deeper, Dante groped blindly in the inky blackness. His fear spiked with every second that passed and he had to block the horrible images that threatened to break his will.
He couldn’t lose her now. Not now, when they’d made it through so much.
His fear broke his concentration. When Dante started to push to the surface for another gulp of air, his fingers snagged something solid.
Something human.
Fingers clutched at his wrist. Dante grabbed a fistful of cloth and kicked his way to the surface.
This wasn’t Nadia. He knew that already.
And if it was Gary Vandergriff, he’d beg to return to his watery grave before Dante was through with him.
Dante broke through the surface and realized he held a sputtering, choking Nick in his grasp.
“I-I can’t see her,” Nadia’s father gasped. “I can’t see anything under there.”
Dante didn’t respond. He simply took another deep breath and dove.
Vandergriff clasped Nadia, pulled her against him like a partner in a grotesque death dance. When she pushed at him, fighting to break his grip, her hand brushed something hard. Her reflexes—even her thoughts—were slowing, but she realized what it was.
Vandergriff’s knife. The one he’d used to cut Dante free.
With a burst of hope, Nadia grabbed for the leather sheaf and fumbled with the snap. At the last moment, Vandergriff must’ve realized what she was doing because he released her waist and tried to twist away from her.
Too late, Nadia thought.
The ivory handle of the knife felt solid in her hand. With a smooth upward motion, she buried it to the hilt in Gary Vandergriff’s chest.
Air bubbles hit her face when he gasped. Then he let her go.
Nadia kicked her way toward the surface.
Her lungs gave out just when she broke the surface and her first breath was a mixture of air and water. Choking, sputtering, she went down again. A pair of strong hands seized her hips and pushed her back up.
“I got you! I got you,” Dante said, hoisting her above his shoulder. Nadia sagged against him.
“Here, let me have her.”
Nadia recognized Ronnie’s voice, but she couldn’t see him. Her eyes burned and she couldn’t stop coughing.
The next thing Nadia knew, she was lying on one of the narrow beds on the houseboat and a sea of anxious faces hovered over her.
“There she is.” Dante tried to smile, but his face was gray. “You okay, princess?”
“A little waterlogged, but I think I’ll make it,” she said with a weak smile.
Nick Branson cupped his hands over his face, blinking back tears. Nadia reached for his hand.
“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for helping me,” she whispered.
Nick tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear and said, “I almost blew it. I almost blew the whole thing. You were taking too long, and I was so scared the plan wasn’t working—”
“We don’t have to be afraid anymore,” she said. “I killed him.”
Nick stared at the space over
her head. “I know. We found his body.”
“What about the police?”
Her father gave her a wan smile. “What about the police? Those two fishermen near the bank saw the whole thing. One of the boats was operating without running lights. It was a head-on collision.”
Nadia knew without saying that they wouldn’t be able to trace the explosives. Nick Branson was a careful man.
“But the knife—”
“Nadia, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. It was self-defense. No one will be able to prove Vandergriff’s death wasn’t an unfortunate accident.”
“What about him?” Dante jerked his head toward Peterson. “I don’t understand … I heard him talking to Vandergriff about setting you up.”
Nadia cleared her throat. “You mean old double agent Peterson here? He’s been spying for us since they picked you up in the desert, feeding Vandergriff false information. He found your phone on the plane and he and Daddy came up with a plan. They let Vandergriff find the phone next, and Peterson spoon fed him the plan. This whole time, Vandergriff thought Peterson was working against us, but it was the other way around. Peterson managed to divert two thirds of Vandergriff’s goons tonight.”
“The name is Bond, James Bond,” Peterson joked.
Nadia rolled her eyes and clutched Dante’s hand. “Can you guys give me and Dante a minute alone?”
Her father nodded and they left the cabin. As soon as they shut the door, Dante took her into his arms. Nadia held onto him a little tighter than necessary, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. The boat lurched as they picked up speed and slipped down the river.
“Are you really okay, princess?” Dante asked, brushing his fingers against her cheek.
Nadia squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.
He sat on the narrow bunk beside her and Nadia traced her fingers over his jaw.
“Your poor face,” she said miserably. “And your wrists …”
They were raw and bleeding and the sight made tears well in her eyes. She lifted his shirt to inspect the ugly black bruises.
“Damn him,” she said.
Dante grabbed her wrists and forced her to look up at him. “I’m okay. Really. Thanks to you.”
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