Niko's Stolen Bride

by Lindy Corbin

  “What is that light?”

  “Parachute flares. Niko’s setting them off to blind the scum in the boat. It doesn’t hurt that they also mark our position.”

  Hope spread through her veins like molten lava. “There’s help on the way?”

  He gave a quick shake of his head as he squinted into the darkness. “Not close enough. We’re on our own.”

  “What do they want?” Her voice rose at the last word and she bit it off sharply, feeling foolish in the face of Eduardo’s calm acceptance.

  “A ship like this is worth millions. They either hope for wealthy passengers carrying a great deal of cash or they want the yacht to sell on the black market.”

  She’d thought as much, wasn’t sure she liked being correct. “They wouldn’t hurt us?”

  He shot her a look that clearly told her anything was possible, but his voice remained low and reassuring. “Most likely, they would set us off in the lifeboat.”

  She wanted to believe him, but couldn’t. She’d heard of the owners of yachts disappearing along with their ships.

  Eduardo pointed to the control panel in front of him. “Here they come again.”

  He put a radio microphone close to his mouth and began to speak, repeating the distress call with updated coordinates and status. Kara leaned closer to the ten-inch square that was part of the ship’s security cameras. She could see the shapes of the two men on the back of the ship and, behind them, the lighter froth of the wake. Niko was the darker, broader blur and George had on the paler shirt that caught more light.

  The younger man was manning the spotlight mounted on the side of the ship, keeping it trained on the oncoming boat. It was directly behind them now. With a sudden surge of speed it disappeared from view. There was a thump and the yacht quivered with the impact.

  Eduardo bit out a curse as the ship shuddered, jolting to the right. Throwing down the microphone, he steered sharply back on course. Kara jerked and swayed with the turns then righted herself, her eyes fixed on the small screen. Niko and George were still aboard. Miraculously, they were all right.

  The thudding jolt came again. This time, the other ship collided with the yacht with a force that Kara felt in her bones. Smaller thumps followed in rapid succession along with the screech of metal.

  “Grappling hooks,” Eduardo said. The look on his face was suddenly grim. “Lock the door.”

  “But Niko and George are–”

  “Now,” he barked. “If they get to us, they have the ship.”

  In two steps she was there, pushing the heavy bolt home. She slammed back into the seat, her eyes glued to the screen. The men had moved to one side, almost out of the camera’s range. The other boat was alongside, out of view. Another flare lit the screen, momentarily turning the world white as a snowstorm.

  Shouts and the echo of gunfire sounded over the loudness of her and Eduardo’s breathing. With a ruthlessness foreign to her, she hoped that Niko had shot the flare directly into their boat. She imagined, at worst, it would burn the skin. At best, they’d be temporarily blinded and would give up the chase.

  “Doesn’t Niko have a weapon?”

  “Only a pistol. Good for close quarters. He’ll use it if they make it aboard.”

  Terror gripped her as she stared at the screen, trying to penetrate the smoke left from the flare. At last she found two figures moving on the stern of the ship. George had left his post at the spotlight and they both leaned over the rail, their positions precarious, given the erratic path Eduardo was steering.

  Suddenly, there were other shapes there with them, swarming over the sides of the ship. The scene was illuminated clearly for a few seconds as the spotlight swung crazily on its swivel base. The men grappled hand-to-hand with the intruders. Niko, taller than the rest, was easy to pick out. He wrestled with a man dressed in dark clothing who perched on the rail with one foot on the teak deck. George was out of sight, though she caught a flash of light on metal that could be the knife that he carried.

  “They’re on board,” Kara choked out. “Fighting.”

  “How many?”

  “Two, I think. No. Three.” Her voice rose in pitch. “One is coming toward us.”

  The man had crept up from the lower swim platform and darted across the main deck, heading straight for the sliding glass doors. Niko must have seen him as well. With a surge of power, he shoved the man he struggled with over the side and turned, charging toward the running man. He dove for the man’s legs, taking him down to the deck with him. They rolled in violent struggle, passing from camera view.

  “Oh my god!”

  Eduardo spared her a quick glance as she started to her feet. He closed a hand around her arm, his grasp firm. “Is someone down?”

  “I–I’m not sure. Niko–” She stopped then swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. “I can’t see him.”

  “Take the controls. I’m going out.”

  Her gaze shot to the wheel and what appeared to be a mass of lighted panels. “I can’t,” she wailed.

  “Yes, you can. There’s nothing but open ocean for miles. Just keep her straight and steady.”

  With a strength she hadn’t guessed he possessed, he pulled her toward his chair. Rising, he forced her down into it and placed her hands on the wheel. The leather covering was warm from his grasp, much like the steering wheel of a car. The controls vibrated with tension and she guessed they were racing along as fast as the ship was capable of moving.

  Contrary to his claim, she knew there was danger in the slightest maneuver she made. She could stall the engines. She could turn too sharply and sling someone overboard. Any wrong move and she could kill them all.

  They could also die if Niko and George were overcome by the invaders. She had to do her part to avoid that. Grasping the wheel more firmly, she tried to focus on the few short words that Eduardo bit out before he left her alone in the pilot house.

  The sea spread out before her, the moon painting silver streaks across the low waves. There was nothing else. No dark land masses, no lights from passing ships or distant islands. It was just them and their attackers.

  Sparing a glance at the monitors, she saw bulky figures merge and split, moving too fast to identify. The men collided and shuffled, mere shades of gray, blending together with the shifting shadows. At least they were within the camera’s view again, which meant Niko was back up on his feet.

  As the spotlight swung across the deck again, she picked out Eduardo, his shirt shining in its crisp whiteness. The patter of gunfire sounded again, closer this time.

  No one fell.

  Kara allowed herself to breathe, sucking air so deep into her lungs that they hurt with the effort. She concentrated on the electronic controls. If only she knew what they were all for. She could be driving them straight into trouble and not know it. She swallowed hard as she realized that the door to the pilot house was unlocked. She was no longer protected by even that uncertain line of defense.

  A sudden surge in speed jerked her forward, one she had done nothing to cause. She stared at the monitors in puzzlement before shifting her gaze back to the screen.

  The door to the pilot house opened, crashing against the panel behind it. Kara spun around in her seat.

  “It’s just me,” Eduardo said above the engine noise and slamming of the door behind him.

  “What’s going on,” Kara demanded.

  “George cut the ropes of the grappling hooks.” Elation and relief were strong in his voice. “The other boat fell back, stopped acting as a drag on us.” Arriving at her side, he made shooing motions. “Get over.”

  Gladly, she gave up the wheel and slid into the next chair. “So it’s over?”

  He gave a hard nod. “Scum didn’t like it when Niko started firing back at them. They jumped ship.”

  “They’re gone for good?”

  He shrugged, his attention distracted as he scanned the controls in front of him. “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how desperate they are. C
ould make another run.”

  “But–” Kara broke off sharply as she realized her voice was wobbling. Eduardo swung the wheel hard to the right and she slammed back into the leather seat, her hands clenched on its arms. “How could they?”

  “Might have a trick or two left, more firepower maybe. Unlikely, though, or they’d have used it already. They’re not usually stupid men, just violent.”

  Hard on his words, gunfire spit again, louder, closer together. The brittle clatter of glass shattering and falling sounded near the stern. As Kara stared at the monitor, the lighter blur that was George twisted violently to the side and fell to the deck.

  She moaned in distress, starting from her chair, but Eduardo reached to stop her with a brief touch. “Don’t”

  “But George was hit!”

  “Let Niko bring him inside.”

  She hesitated, but nodded in reluctant agreement as gunfire rang out again. Perching on the edge of the chair, she strained to follow the images on the monitor. Another burst of fire, then the pirate boat veered away in a plume of spray, falling off behind them with only a metallic glint in the darkness to give away its position as it sped away.

  “The other boat’s leaving,” she exclaimed, relief scorching through her veins so fast she felt light-headed for a second. On the monitor, she watched as Niko appeared beside George where he had fallen. The two shapes blended and merged as he heaved the smaller man to his feet, supporting him with an arm around his waist.

  Eduardo glanced down at the security camera’s screen. “Going after easier prey.”

  “You don’t mean it!” Not everyone could survive an encounter as well as they had, she thought. Niko and his crew had reacted so quickly and thoroughly.

  “The distress call alerted every vessel in the area. They’ll be lucky to catch anyone unprepared tonight.”

  She sent up a fervent prayer that they would not try to harm anyone else. Turning back to the monitor, she realized the two men were no longer visible on the screen. They must be near the wide sliding doors. Jumping to her feet, she hurried to the pilot house door and jerked it open.

  Chapter 7

  The wild rush of wind greeted her in the main cabin. Half of the tinted glass slider lay scattered across the floor. The curtains billowed out into the night like a flag flying in the breeze of their passage. Glass crunched underfoot as she crossed to slide back the section that was still operational so Niko could half drag, half carry George inside.

  Niko’s gaze traveled over her, his eyes a stormy blue, assessing every inch of her in an instant. “You are unhurt?”

  She nodded, unable to speak for a few seconds from the rush of tears that clogged her throat. Relief, she assured herself. It was just sheer and utter relief that it was over.

  Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. He turned his attention back to George, supporting the other man until they reached the closest sofa, where he lowered him to the cushions.

  George landed heavily, slumped there with labored breath. Blood smeared his light tee shirt and the hand clamped over his left arm. He shifted, pushing himself up on one elbow. Kara moved to help him, pulling on his good arm until he was fully upright. Grabbing a couple of the throw pillows, she shoved them into the corner of the sofa to support his back. His eyes met hers, a merry glint in the depths of his darker ones.

  “What a trip,” he said, as a huge grin spread across his face. “A good story to tell the ladies at the bars in Miami.” He lifted his hand for a moment to inspect the wound, then reapplied the pressure as blood oozed through his fingers. “They’ll give much attention, yes?”

  Kara felt the muscles in her face go slack as her mouth dropped open.

  The scrape of glass under Niko’s shoes alerted her that he was beside them. He carried a large rectangular orange bag that he threw down on the low table in front of George.

  “If you don’t bleed to death first, fool.”

  Kara moved aside so Niko could take her place on the sofa. She retreated to the other side of the coffee table that was fixed to the floor. He removed a dark leather belt from around his waist. The weapon he had used glinted silver in its attached holster. The pistol Eduardo had mentioned. It must be kept somewhere in the main cabin because Niko had not had it on him when he left his room. The sight of it caused her breathing to escalate again, the danger suddenly more valid than it had seemed as she watched it unfold on the camera screen.

  Niko unzipped the orange bag and pulled out a medical kit. “Let’s see the damage.”

  The younger man shrugged. “It is a scratch. But it will make a beautiful scar.”

  She hovered, lacing and unlacing her fingers. “Should we take him to a hospital?”

  Niko looked up from where he was searching through the box of medical supplies, a frown between his thick dark brows. “Worried about George?” The tone of his voice was silky, dangerous.

  She fled a step under the onslaught of his glare. What was the matter with him? She’d suspected that he had a tough side, but the evidence was daunting. “He’s bleeding everywhere!” she blurted, gesturing toward the spreading track of red down his arm.

  He held her gaze for a moment longer before turning back toward the other man. “What do you think, George? Want to go to the hospital where you can charm all the pretty nurses?”

  The man’s grin widened. “Yes.”

  “Nassau is the closest harbor. We’ll be there in a couple of hours.” Niko ripped open a package of gauze bandaging, then hesitated. “Kara’s right. You’re bleeding pretty badly. Let’s get you down to the galley and clean this up before I bandage it.”

  Kara stood aside as Niko helped the injured man to his feet, supporting him with one arm around his waist. She quickly closed the medical kit, stuffed it back into the orange bag and followed. George was pale by the time they reached the galley. He slumped against a stainless steel cabinet and released the grip he had used to keep pressure on the wound. A rush of red drained down his arm and trickled into the sink. The sharp, metallic smell of fresh blood grew strong in the close confines of the small room. Niko seemed unperturbed as he grabbed the sprayer and began cleaning the wound with water.

  He nodded toward the counter beside him and she placed the bag there. To distract herself from the sight of the open gash in George’s arm, she laid out the supplies she thought they’d need. The gauze package he’d opened earlier, tape, scissors. She watched for a moment, anxious to help, but nausea curled in her stomach. A low sound escaped her.

  Niko turned, his eyes narrowed on her face. “There’s a liquor cabinet upstairs,” he said quietly. “Could you get George something? Whiskey. Vodka. Whatever you find.”

  Grateful for a task that took her from the room, she headed toward the stairs. In the main cabin, she caught sight of Eduardo in the pilot house beyond. Knowing he would be worried, she stepped inside to give him a quick update on George’s condition.

  “Any sign of the pirates?” She glanced out the front wind screen, her eyes narrowed as she searched for the lights of another ship. The first pale steaks of dawn were just beginning to color the sky.

  “Long gone,” he said with warm reassurance in his gravelly voice. “They thought to catch us asleep. Their mistake.”

  “We’re lucky you spotted them.”

  “Practice,” he acknowledged with a slight grin.

  This was no doubt true; still, she couldn’t prevent a shudder at the thought of what could have happened.

  By the time she returned to the galley with a bottle of twelve-year-old Scottish whiskey in one hand and three small shot glasses in other, Niko had bound the wound and was washing the remaining streaks of red off his hands and arms. George sat in one of the small chairs, his arm resting on the table that had been extended from its slot in the cabinet. His lips were tinged an ashen color and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. She placed the cut crystal glasses on the table next to him and poured out a drink for each of them. George tossed his back then he
ld out the glass for a refill. The second one quickly followed the first.

  “I’d like to lay down now,” he said, his voice edged with fatigue.

  Sympathy for the young Greek touched Kara. He had been injured and lost a considerable amount of blood, but it was probably the let-down from the adrenaline rush of danger that sapped his energy now.

  She stepped aside as Niko helped the other man the short distance to the cabin furthest from hers. Leaning against the galley cabinet, she tilted whiskey into her mouth, coughing as it burned her throat. She heard Niko’s voice, deep and resonant as he settled George in the bed, speaking to him in Greek.

  She listened to the cadence of the words, wishing she knew what he said, wishing he were speaking to her in those soothing tones. As the whiskey and his words worked to calm her nerves, gratitude replaced the fear that had gripped her. Not only was she grateful to be alive, but she was thankful that Niko was unhurt. It wasn’t fear for herself alone that had made the pirate attack so emotional. It was fear for Niko. For a moment, when she’d seen him tackle the intruder and disappear from the screen, she’d thought she’d lost him.

  The thought was not to be borne. Distress rose again, and she set the glass back on the counter, turning toward the sleeping cabins.

  Niko appeared in the open doorway of the galley, his step sure and strong. Without a word, he reached her side and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the heat and security of his body. Surprise held her still for a moment, then she turned her head and pressed her cheek against his shirt, her arms going around his back to return the embrace. The hard muscles of his chest were an unforgiving pillow for her cheek. A shiver ran over her. Whether it was a reaction to the sudden warmth or the incidents of the last hour, she wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Nor did she care that she was being carried to Nassau against her will or that she would never have been involved in this night’s events if she hadn’t been shanghaied. None of that mattered in this moment. It just felt good to be held in his arms.