Baited

by Crystal Green

He was rubbing suntan oil on Alex’s back as she sat upright, holding her long fall of bleached blond hair in one hand as she tilted her head to the side.

  An empty twinge needled through Kat’s chest, spiking her loneliness, bursting any hopes she’d entertained about…What? Them getting back together?

  Numbness gripped her heart and she told herself to leave, that horny captains could touch anyone’s back they wanted to. But her feet wouldn’t move. They were rooted to the spot, forcing her to listen to Will’s jaunty banter, Alexandra’s laughter.

  As Kat helplessly watched, she could almost feel the trail of his fingers burning along her own back, massaging away the knots of her own muscles. The whisper of his soft voice almost warmed her ear as they talked about their ambitions, their days.

  They’d talk about things like Will, investing his money in get-rich-quick schemes that always burned him. Kat, wondering what it would be like to travel to Mexico City or Japan with him someday. Will, playing nice with the men who’d watched his father’s pathetic demise in the hopes that they could help him. Kat, assuring the man she loved that he was a better person than the lot of them.

  That they already had everything they needed in each other.

  She’d been so wrong. So young, even if it was just a year ago. But dammit, he wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, so why was she still so territorial, so torn up?

  Sucker punched by the sight of his hands on someone else, she forced herself to go.

  As Kat headed back to her cabin, passing a couple of random crew members on the way, she boiled with frustration, longing, the unfairness of her lingering need for him.

  Will. A high-priced cabana boy. Kat suspected that if he had the opportunity to hook up with someone like Alexandra Delacroix and the millions she was in line to inherit, he’d probably do it in a heartbeat, just to make his family name shine again.

  By the time Kat found a nook with its own wet bar, she was ready to tear a hole in the wall. Unfortunately, that’s where she found Duffy.

  He was nursing another martini, elbows resting on the mahogany of a small table, gaze on a TV that was playing highlights of last year’s Superbowl.

  Just seeing him brought back her rage at his treatment of Chris. Heightened anger, stoked by Will’s actions, prodded her.

  She leaned against the door frame, her hand braced on a hip. “Is this where the boys come to man up?”

  Straightening in his chair, Duffy had the grace to seem guilty. A flash of pity stole through her at the image of Louis Delacroix bullying his son, but it didn’t last long. As if sensing her momentary sympathy, Duffy rolled his eyes, putting her at a mocking distance. A sheen of moisture from the beverage lingered on his bottom lip, still giving him some vulnerability whether she liked it or not.

  “Chris didn’t get hurt, okay?” he said. “So drop the guardian-angel act.”

  “Listen.” She stood, sauntered into the room. “I don’t know if that kind of ‘playing’ is an everyday thing for you, but it’s not going to happen again. Chris is thirteen and you’re…what? Mentally twelve? Except you outweigh him by about one hundred pounds and fifteen physical years. That’s not a fair round.”

  “We were goofing off, not that it’s your concern.”

  Duffy took another sip and his blue eyes bored into her. Not quite drunk yet, she thought. But sober enough to know that he’s offending me.

  Her adrenaline hummed, warming up for a real show. “I think you’ve got different sandbox rules than the rest of the world. Regular people don’t pick on kids, unless they’re trying to make up for certain other…shortcomings.”

  “Well, you’re a ballbuster, aren’t you? Why the hell my gramps tolerates you, I’ll never know. You can’t be that good of a lay.”

  She froze.

  With as much control as she could muster, Kat lifted up a finger and held it in front of Duffy’s face, leaning over to make her point. Even with his fumes of gin and vermouth hitting her she didn’t flinch.

  “If I see you messing with Chris again,” she said, “I will make good on that promise I made earlier, except we won’t be talking about guts being all tied up.”

  She lowered her gaze to his lap, making sure he caught her meaning, then turned around to walk away. God, she was proud of herself for keeping it cool.

  “You won’t last long anyway. Ever wonder why you’re such good friends with Daddy Warbucks, Orphan Annie?”

  Yes. Hell, yes. Sometimes she felt like a charity case or downright pet to Duke, and that even dolts like Duffy could see it hurt her with shame.

  He didn’t even wait for her answer. “Gramps is a collector, you know. He’s done this a hundred times before, so don’t let his heroic stories of redemption fool you. He’s still a womanizer—always will be—and you’re his final project. Girls like you give him a thrill—to refurbish, just like the old buildings he used to buy and sell.”

  She was actually standing here listening to this, glued to the spot but wanting to run away. But she needed to hear what she’d always suspected: that Duke had ulterior motives, that she wasn’t good enough for him on her own merits. With every syllable, Duffy was nailing her further into the floor, the truth ringing in her ears. When she opened her mouth to stop him, to save herself before she crumbled before him, she found she couldn’t talk. Dryness—cotton-like on her tongue—evaporated each word.

  “Don’t worry,” Duffy added, “he’ll leave you in good shape. But, for now, keep this in mind: you’re the hobby of a bored old man, Katsu. So don’t think you’ve got any kind of superiority over me.”

  By now she was quivering.

  Duke, one of the only people around who seemed to respect her, to believe in her…He was just a player.

  But Kat couldn’t really buy that. It was a lie. A way for Duffy to bring her down. And the only thing Kat could do was start walking again, praying that her jelly legs could make it to her cabin.

  But Duffy stopped her by grabbing her T-shirt. “I’m not done yet, señorita.”

  Bristling, she stopped, but not before he slid his other hand under the curve of her butt.

  He laughed. “What’s good for the old goose—”

  She whipped around and swung her arm, knuckles crunching his cheek. In the same motion, she pushed one of his arms away and sprang backward so quickly that he didn’t have time to latch on to her clothing again.

  “That was a warning,” she choked out.

  He was holding a palm against his face where she’d connected, mouth agape and eyes wide. It took about a full minute for him to lower his hand.

  “You bitch.” He was wearing the same expression she’d seen when his father had dressed him down. Destroyed.

  But did that give him the right to call her a bitch? Little did he know that in her neighborhood, the term was a compliment. A damned badge.

  “Number one,” she said, her voice edged with a quake of anger, “you don’t touch me. Number two, you don’t call me señorita, geisha, American pie or any other condescending nickname your mini-brain can conjure up. But…” She fought to bring a tough smile to her face. “…you may call me bitch.”

  The second he angled forward in his chair, eyes blazing with rage, Kat was ready. Her upbringing had tuned her in to the subtlest jerk of the hand, the hint of an explosion. She’d been jumped too many times by punks at school, faced down by skanks on her own block.

  So bring it, Duff.

  When he did, she’d already widened her stance, taken her right fist into her left, positioned her elbow in front of her body. After a rapid cock backward, she levered her elbow forward, smashing it into Duffy’s temple and sending him crashing onto the table.

  Just as she was preparing to follow up with a kick, applause hit the air and she lost focus.

  Duffy, who’d sheltered his head with his arms as he sprawled on the table, peeked up. Kat eased away—never put your back to an enemy—and looked at their audience.

  Four of the crew members she’d met e
arlier were in the doorway, clapping: Larry with the dreadlocks; Shaw, the short first officer who carried a big knife holstered at his belt; Jason, the bearded engineer; and Tinkerbell, a petite, dark-skinned, Filipino woman who’d dyed her spiky hair red. The woman was shaking and staring a burning hole through Duffy. “There’s none of that crap on the M. Falcon, asshole.” Shaw put his arm around her as angry tears filled her eyes.

  Larry stepped inside, taking up Kat’s back as Shaw and Jason slipped away. “Do I have to ask if you’re okay?”

  “It’s a nice gesture.”

  Larry smiled, whispered in her ear. “Beat them all to shreds. That’s what I say.”

  His smile reflected genuine respect, and it made Kat wonder just how long they’d been standing there, silently rooting for the underdog.

  And from the livid look on Duffy’s face, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

  After a delicious dinner of Maine lobster, Dom Perignon and crème brûlée, everyone more or less retired to their cabins for the night.

  Duke, who’d been served a meal tailored to his special diet, had wanted to rest for tomorrow, when they would arrive at the island and begin their cage-diving. Civil to the extreme, everyone else had followed suit, obeying his wishes with sugar-sweet speed.

  Truthfully, Kat thought Duffy might be happy about the lack of social time tonight. He’d looked at her only once during the polite dinner, and it hadn’t been a nice look, either. His bruised eye had made it more of a glower.

  In explanation, he’d told everyone that the martinis had gotten to him so he’d tripped and hit his face on the TV stand. During his recitation of the excuse, Kat could feel his hate.

  So what. She’d have to walk around with ojos in the back of her head to keep track of Duffy from now on. Big deal. It wouldn’t be any different than the harassment she’d had to endure throughout school, and that she’d survived once the other kids understood that a shrimp like her could definitely deliver some blows. Once her dad learned about her problems, he taught her another trick or three. He hadn’t lived through boot camp for nothin’.

  After dinner, Kat settled back in her berth, dressed in an oversize white T-shirt and undies, and opened the shark textbook Dr. Hopkins had loaned her. After a half hour of trying to absorb the scientific terms and dry language, she closed it.

  Out of my depth, she thought.

  Still, as she shut off the light and listened to her stomach wrap itself around all the foods she’d gorged on tonight, she couldn’t help wondering about what else was in that book. What she could learn if she took a chance. But…right. This was coming from a girl who’d blown school, a girl whose grades sucked, a girl who’d showed everyone just how dumb she was. Schoolgirls got taunted, harassed, and Kat hadn’t needed the extra grief. Kat hadn’t…

  Sleep claimed her before she could think it through.

  Her dreams were full of sharks and cages and a sea that glowed the color of Will’s eyes. Peace, just like under the surface of the ocean.

  Fear, too, at what was hidden.

  Just as she was giving in to the blue-edged serenity of unconscious thought, her world jerked around her, like water thrashing into itself, flooding her. She sprang up in her bed, frozen, heart thudding through her skin. In the dead quiet of night, she listened for whatever had disturbed her.

  A shift in movement? A sound?

  Thump, thump. Creaaaak.

  Her heart. The boat. But there was something else beneath its rhythms. Something she couldn’t really…

  Kat flicked on her lamp, eyes stinging from the sudden brightness, eyes squinting and scanning her small cabin for the intrusion. But nothing looked out of place.

  Just as she relaxed a little, the boat seemed to flicker, or hiccup or…something weird.

  She waited. It didn’t happen again.

  Spaz, she thought. You’re still jacked up from this afternoon with Duffy and what he said about Duke. Just chill, okay?

  So she sat in bed with the lights on, waiting to get tired again.

  She didn’t. And…ugh. Her cabin was shrinking by the second, falling in on her.

  Throwing on a pair of shorts, Kat knew sleep would be out of the question now. The best thing to do would be to trip down to the library and grab a movie or get an easy book to lull her back to slumberland.

  After grabbing a sample-sized hairspray—just for defensive insurance—she eased open her door, then tiptoed into the hall. Night-lights fizzed along the passageway, dim and eerie. There was a long screech like the boat was yawning and…

  …silence.

  Keep those eyes in the back of your head open, she thought, glancing toward the library. It wasn’t very far, so she started to walk, blood thumping, ears trained for sound.

  Screeeee…

  Spooked, she looked behind her, seeing nothing, then faced front. The library door was only ten feet farther, just past the dark opening to the stairway…

  But she never made it that far.

  Chapter 4

  A calloused hand pressed over Kat’s mouth just as if it was pushing a tight gasp of surprise right back into her.

  Without hesitation, she brought up the tiny bottle of hairspray, guessing an aim at her assailant’s eyes. Makeshift Mace. The Barbie McGyver solution to an attack.

  But a familiar voice stopped her with a whisper.

  “Kat! Shhh….”

  Heartbeat tearing through her skin, she turned around to find Will, who rested a finger over her lips before she could react.

  At the gentle contact, her body betrayed her, melting. The skin of his finger was so warm, so natural against her mouth, burning memories, sensations, right back into her soul. Without meaning to, she relaxed, lips softening against him as repressed hunger expanded through her.

  All those nights with Will…his fingers trailing down, over her mouth, exploring the pulse of her neck, the angles of her collarbone…weakening her to the point where she could feel herself melding to his body…A sharp pang of hunger twisted in her chest, stinging like barbs on tentacles, leaving her flailing. Ashamed of the power he still had over her, Kat backed away, leaving Will with his finger in the air.

  He tightened his jaw and slowly brought down his hand until it rested in a fist by his side.

  “Sorry to scare you,” he said quietly. “I was making the rounds to see that everyone is good for the night.”

  While they stood there, awkward as can be, the floor tilted a bit, lifted by a swell in the ocean’s rhythm. Kat searched for her balance by reaching for the wall.

  But Will was there to steady her, grabbing her hands.

  Warm…God, so warm…

  She stood up and disengaged, her palms tingling, begging her to touch him again. “Choppy outside?”

  There we go. Casual. Well done.

  “Yeah, we’re heading into some Dramamine weather,” he answered softly, minding the guests who were sleeping. “I was just going back up to the bridge to cover it. Nothing to panic about.”

  “Then I should let you go.”

  He hesitated. “Right.”

  As he started to leave, her heart sank. But then he paused again, turned back around. She sucked in a breath at the intensity of his expression in the dim lighting.

  “Kat, I just…” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head and staring at the ground. “I’m going to say it straight out. I’ve really missed you.”

  Bam. That was the sound of her heart exploding, muffled by all the layers of anguish she’d piled on it. It throbbed, struggling to regain strength and control. She couldn’t allow him to decimate her again.

  “Just let it go, Will.”

  “No, dammit, I won’t.” By now, his whispers had turned ragged. “Can you do me the favor of explaining why you never gave me another chance?”

  It was the moment she’d been waiting for—closure. Even though part of her resisted the death of her dreams, Kat blew out a nervous breath, girding herself, and motioned for him to follow her up
the stairs. Fighting another rolling wave that tipped the boat up, then down, she eventually led him to the empty salon, where she set the hairspray bottle on the table and stood behind a chair—a subtle shield.

  “Maybe you should get to the bridge,” she said.

  “Shaw’s covering it. He knows I’ll be along.”

  His voice cracked on the last word, which proved the trigger for all the hurt and betrayal she’d been buried under to finally give way.

  “You remember how disappointed I was when I told you about our baby….” Pain. Loss. “Or what could’ve been our baby.”

  Guilt flushed over his face. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. But I asked you to marry me. Didn’t that—”

  “No.” The answer was harsh, full of grief. “You asked me to marry you because you thought it was the right thing to do, not because you wanted me to be your wife. But that’s not why I left…at least, that’s not all of it.”

  While she caught her breath, the boat shifted again, creaking and moaning, a haunted thing echoing the ghost-laced wind. He waited, his hands gripping his own chair as he faced her from across the table. He’d gone pale underneath his tan and that made her feel worse because she couldn’t accept his remorse. Not after spending a year talking herself out of loving him.

  “What did it for me,” she said, voice jagged as she struggled to keep it together, “was that one moment where you found out that it was a false alarm. The day I got my period and found out I wasn’t pregnant. I could see the relief on your face. I can still see it every time I think of you. Nothing can ever make up for that.”

  “We weren’t ready for a family.”

  “No, we weren’t, and thank God we didn’t have one.”

  Absently, longingly, she drifted a hand over her belly, then stopped. All she’d ever wanted was Will, from the night they’d met until…well, now. She’d never known anyone like him: a guy whose mind was tinted with the same ocean-blue shade of her own life, a man who wanted to make something of himself come hell or high water…a man who she’d once thought had some stalwart integrity because of the way he took care of his family.