by Ginna Gray
"Stuffed an—?" Perplexed, Abigail followed the direction of his accusing finger. "For your information, that is not a stuffed toy. That happens to be my dog."
"You're kidding! That's a real dog?" He leaned in for a closer look.
Chelsea growled and lifted her lip.
"Aw, jeez, it is alive." The look he sent Abigail reeked disgust. "You call this a dog? Shoot, this is just a rat with longhair—Ow!"
He jumped back, rubbing the end of his nose, and glaring at Abigail. "Dammit to hell! He bit me! That damned little fur ball bit me!"
"Her name is Chelsea. And she only nipped you. She didn't even break the skin. Anyway, it's your own fault. You shouldn't have insulted her."
For an instant Abigail thought he might explode right before her eyes. His jaw bulged, and a tick appeared at the corner of his upper lip. A vein in his temple wriggled and pulsed like a tiny blue snake just beneath the surface of his tanned skin.
"All right, that does it!" he shouted, throwing up his hands. Abigail shrank back. "I'm taking you and that vicious wad of fluff back to port right now. I'm not about to get sucked into your problems, lady, so you can just take your sad tale somewhere else. Besides, I don't have time for this nonsense. Dammit, I've got a hot date tonight with a very sexy lady."
"You mean... y-you really aren't going to help me?"
He stomped to the control console and started the engines. With his hands on the wheel he shot her a hard look. "That's right. Once I dump you on the dock at San Cristobal, you're on your own."
"Well!" She huffed to cover the surge of terror that tightened her chest. "You're certainly no knight in shining armor, are you?"
"Nope." He raked her from head to toe with a dismissive look that made Abigail squirm. "But then, you're not exactly a fairytale princess, either."
Opening the throttle, he gave the wheel a hard spin. With a roar of engines, the boat heeled to starboard and cut through the turquoise waters in a tight arc, the hull thumping and bouncing over the waves as they raced back toward San Cristobal.
Not so much as a word passed between them on the trip back to the dock.
Abigail's prickly defenses crumbled under a renewed rush of fear. Quaking, she gripped the rail and watched the island grow steadily larger. Despite David Blaine's rough manner and cantankerous disposition, she hadn't expected him to refuse her. What was she going to do now?
Abigail considered pleading with him, but his rigid posture and tight-jawed expression were not encouraging. Oh, Lord, how could this be happening to her? She wished she'd never come on this trip!
David tried his best to ignore the woman. Scowling, he steered a straight course for San Cristobal's harbor, but over and over again his eyes strayed her way. He noted her white-knuckled grip on the rail and the tense set of her shoulders and gritted his teeth.
Damn silly female. Just his luck to get tangled up with a skittish old maid! What the hell was she doing vacationing alone, anyway? She wasn't worldly enough to be traipsing around in a foreign country on her own; Didn't she have any family to look after her? A brother? Or a male cousin, at least?
David ground his teeth and flexed his hands around the wheel. He fantasized about having them around Pepe Morales's scrawny neck. He ought to choke the man for siccing this drab little mouse on him.
Not for a minute did David believe that she was in danger. The fool woman probably got hysterical and bolted over nothing. He glanced her way again and sighed.
Foolish or not, her fear was genuine. Beneath the minimum of makeup she wore, her face was pale, and her eyes were clouded with apprehension.
Dammit, she looked like an abandoned waif in that hideous big shirt and baggy shorts.
The wind molded the garments to her slight body and whipped the ridiculous sombrero and her long braid out behind her. Shooting her another sour look, David grudgingly admitted that she wasn't all that bad looking. She was no great beauty, and she certainly wasn't his type, but she wasn't a dog, either. And dammit! She did have fantastic legs.
He felt his anger fading and gritted his teeth. Hell, Blaine, don't go getting soft. The woman's not your problem.
A buxom blond woman wearing an outlandish low-cut sundress was pacing up and down the pier by the Free-mud's empty berth when they entered the harbor. Easing the boat into the dock in reverse, David waved and called out a warm greeting that caused Abigail's jaw to drop.
My stars. Why...he was almost handsome when he smiled!
The blonde tapped her foot. Hands on her hips, she bristled with anger. When her eyes switched to Abigail they shot sparks.
"You rat!" she shrieked the instant David jumped to the pier to secure a mooring line. "How dare you leave me standing here twiddling my thumbs while you're out romancing someone else!" She gestured toward Abigail and shot her a venomous glare. "What is she? The early shift?"
"Maxine, I can explain—"
"Don't bother! If you think you can sandwich me in between your other women, you're nuts. You can take your sunset cruise and your romantic dinner and stick it, buster!"
"No, Maxine, wait! I..."
But the blonde was already stomping away, her stiletto heels hammering the wooden planks of the pier.
Frustrated, David stared after her and swore.
From the corner of his eye he caught a movement as Abigail descended the ladder from the bridge, and he swung on her, his anger finding a target.
"All right! That's it! You're outta here!" He jumped back aboard and jerked his thumb toward the pier. "Take that excuse for a dog and your sad tale and hit the road, lady. Now!"
Abigail flinched. Swallowing hard, she nodded and scrambled past him.
On the pier she smoothed her clothing and patted a stray wisp of hair back into place while her eyes made a quick inspection of the docks.
Casting a wary look at David, she began to edge away. "I, uh...I'm sorry I troubled you, Mr. Blaine. And for, uh..." She glanced in the direction Maxine had taken and grimaced. "Well...the misunderstanding. I...I hope you can patch things up with your girlfriend."
His expression didn't alter by so much as a flick of an eyelid. With a grimace and a feeble wave, Abigail turned away.
David clenched his jaw tighter and watched her creep toward quayside, her gaze darting all around as if she expected a bogeyman to jump out at her any second. After a few yards she stopped and shifted from one foot to the other, absently stroking her little dog's head with one hand, the other twisting the tail of her shirt.
Aw, for crying out loud! Did she have to stand there looking like a frightened little mouse?
Ignore her, David told himself. She was not his problem. Anyway, she was making way too much of the incident. Jeez. Getting all bent out of shape over a simple little burglary.
But it simply wasn't in him to turn his back on a woman in distress. For over thirty years, from the time he was seven and they were born, he had looked after his twin sisters, protected them. They had both married recently, and he had gladly turned the job over to their, husbands, but the habit was ingrained.
Cursing a blue streak and calling himself a sap and a sucker and worse, he leaped onto the pier and stalked after her. "Damned silly woman. Nothing but a damned nuisance."
Well, he'd give her a choice; he'd take her back to her hotel and prove to her that she had nothing to fear, or he'd put her on a plane for home. But that was all the help she'd get out of him. He sure as hell wasn't going to spend his precious time off hand-holding some neurotic female. And he intended to make that clear to Miss Prim-and-Proper Abigail Stewart!
His long angry strides quickly narrowed the gap between them. Abigail had almost reached the end of the pier and he was only a dozen or so yards behind her when two gray-suited men jumped from a car parked along the quayside and grabbed her.
A hand clamped over Abigail's mouth cut off her startled yelp, but she struggled wildly, bucking and kicking as the pair dragged her toward the long black car. Chelsea set up a terrible racke
t, lunging and snapping at the pair, her shrill barks an assault on the ears.
For a second, David's steps faltered, and he stared, astonished. "Hey! Hey, stop that!" he yelled, breaking into a run. "What the hell do you think you're doing! Let her go!"
The two shot annoyed glances over their shoulders and tried to hustle Abigail toward the car, but David was on them in seconds.
He rammed one man with his shoulder and sent him sprawling, a big brute with a face that looked like someone had bashed it in with a shovel. In one continuous motion, he spun, grabbed the other man from behind in a choking hammerlock and wrenched him away from Abigail.
The sudden release caught her off balance. She staggered backward and went down hard on her rear end, making jarring contact with the pier as the first man scrambled to his feet.
He lunged toward David, but before he could reach him, Chelsea leaped from her perch in Abigail's purse and sank her needlelike teeth into the back of his ankle.
The brutish man let out a blood-curdling howl and hopped around the pier, kicking his leg out to the side every other step. The little dog flopped and swung from his ankle like a fish on a hook, but his efforts to shake her loose were wasted; Chelsea hung on tenaciously.
Abigail scrambled to her feet. Pale and shaken, she clutched her purse to her with both arms and gaped, unable to move. This couldn't be happening! Not to her! Things like this simply did not happen to Abigail Mary Stewart of Waco, Texas.
But it was. Right before her eyes there was her beloved Chelsea being shaken like a rag doll. And David Blaine was slugging it out in a dirty, no-holds-barred fight that appalled her, leaving her torn between gratitude and revulsion.
Barefoot and wearing only the brief pair of horrid cutoffs, his dark brown hair-disheveled around his bristly face, he looked more like a thug than his opponent.
Both men landed some solid blows. David had a cut above one eye that was bleeding, but even as inexperienced as Abigail was in such matters, it was clear to her that the stranger was getting the worst of it.
She winced as David drove his fist into his opponent's stomach. The man doubled over, and David followed up with an upward jerk of his knee, catching him in the chin. As he began to crumple, David clasped his hands together and slammed them down hard across the side of the man's neck, finishing him off.
Immediately he whirled on the other man. The expression on his bleeding, battered face shocked Abigail out of her trance. He looked lethal. Murderous.
Fear for her pet's safety shot through her as David advanced on his new opponent. She didn't think he was even aware of the little dog hanging on valiantly to the man's ankle.
"Chelsea, come!" she called. "Come here at once!"
Chelsea's growl changed to a pleading whine, but after one more sharp command from Abigail, she released her hold and scampered to her mistress's side.
Braced in a crouch, David moved in. "All right, you ugly gorilla. You wanna take me on? Huh? C'mon," he taunted, motioning the man closer. "Let's see if you're as tough when you're fighting a man. Or do you only fight with women?"
His opponent gave a guttural growl and lunged, throwing a wild punch. David ducked it, countered with a vicious two-handed swing that caught him in the midsection and followed up with a swift kick to the groin.
Clutching the injured part of his anatomy, the brute collapsed in a groaning heap.
David grabbed Abigail's hand. "C'mon! Let's get the hell out of here!"
He hauled her back down the pier toward his boat at a dead run, jerking on her arm so hard he almost pulled it from its socket. Stumbling after him, Abigail looked back over her shoulder and saw Chelsea, still dancing around the men, snarling and barking.
"C'mon! Run, dammit! Run!" David snarled when she dug in her heels.
"Wait! My dog!"
"What! Are you nuts? You can't— Hey! What're you doing?" he yelped when she broke loose and raced back.
"Chelsea, come! Come on, girl, run!"
She ran halfway back before the little dog gave up her assault and raced to meet her.
Abigail scooped up the animal just as David skidded to a halt behind her, cursing a blue streak. Once again he grabbed her arm. "Of all the stupid, harebrained... C'mon, will you! Those two goons are coming around!"
Yanking her along with him, he pounded down the pier. They were only a few yards from the boat when something hit a piling just ahead of them with a dull thunk. David glanced back over his shoulder. One man had struggled to his knees and was taking aim with the gun he held in a two-fisted grip.
"Damn! They're shooting at us!"
Abigail squawked like a chicken and tried to hunch over in a ball.
David gave her arm another yank and turned on more speed. "C'mon, Legs! Move it!"
A splinter of wood shot off the side of the Freewind as they reached it, leaving a long raw gouge in the pristine white paint. Immediately a rapid splat, splat, splat sounded, and miniature geysers went up in the water off the starboard side.
Cursing, David grasped Abigail's waist and tossed her into the boat. She landed facedown in an ungainly sprawl. He cast off and leaped in after her. Abigail was struggling to regain her feet, but he shoved her down again.
"Get below! And stay there!" he hollered as a bullet ricocheted off a brass fitting and two more hit the stern with a sickening Whomp! Whomp!
Grabbing the rails of the ladder, David gained the bridge in two leaps, while she scooted across the deck on her belly and slithered headfirst down the stairs into the cabin, dragging her purse and Chelsea along with her and letting out a shriek each time a bullet struck the boat.
A barrage peppered the craft at the same instant the powerful engines sprang to life.
"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God," Abigail whimpered, scrambling on her hands and knees toward the tiny stateroom in the bow.
David opened the throttle, and the engine sounds changed from a rumble to a roar, sending the boat surging forward. Abigail shrieked again, and went somersaulting backward like a rolled-up hedgehog. She slammed into the companionway steps and ended up head down, her legs sticking up in the air.
Her oversize shirt fell around her armpits and bunched over her face and neck, nearly suffocating her.
"Help! Help!"
She fought the smothering confinement, yelling and sputtering and flailing her arms, but her cries were lost in the powerful engines' roar.
By the time she fought her way free and regained an upright position, the gunfire had stopped and the boat ride had changed from smooth to rough. Abigail realized that they had cleared the harbor.
The cabin cruiser bucked and bounced over the waves at an alarming speed. She grabbed the pedestal leg of the small banquet table and held on for dear life. Each jarring bump shot her several inches up in the air, striking the top of her head on the underside of the table, then slammed her bottom down against the deck.
She had expected David to slow down once they left the island behind, but he continued the breakneck pace without letup. After a while, Abigail struggled to her feet. Holding on to anything within reach, she made her way unsteadily topside.
The first thing she saw was the dense green mountainous terrain of Alhaja Verde. They were not in open waters as she had expected, but running parallel to the island.
She lurched to the ladder and climbed up to the bridge. "Mr. Blaine! What are we doing here? Where are we going?" she yelled over the noise of the wind and engines.
David glared at her. "I told you to stay below!"
"What for? Those men are miles away back on the docks."
"Oh, yeah? Then who do you suppose that is behind us?"
Abigail turned toward the stern. The sun had just sunk below the horizon. In the fading light she could barely make out a small boat, several hundred yards to the rear. It bounced over the waves at high speed, following their course.
"They commandeered a speedboat," he shouted. "That's why I didn't head out to sea."
"Wh-what are we
going to do?"
"Lose 'em—if we can. There's a string of small islands and atolls off the north shore of Alhaja Verde that's like a maze. If we can get there before they overtake us, we may be able to give them the slip."
"And if we can't?"
"Then we'll—"
Abruptly one of the engines began to sputter, cutting him off.
"What the..." Muttering under his breath, David jiggled the throttle and checked the gauges on the control console.
"What is it? What's the matter?"
"I'm not sure. But she's overheating and we're losing speed fast."
Abigail wrung her hands and glanced over her shoulder, but they were rounding a curve and for the moment their pursuers were out of sight. " Wh-what are we going to do?"
Jaw clenched, David tried to coax more speed out of the boat, but it was hopeless. The craft coughed and wheezed like an asthmatic in pollen season. "We're going to take advantage of the failing light while we've got this shoreline for cover," he shouted, and the boat veered sharply landward as he spun the wheel.
"There's a little hidden cove just ahead. The entrance to it is almost impossible to spot from the water. You have to know it's there to find it. Keep your fingers crossed that we make it before they round that last bend."
"But... but what if they know about the cove, too?"
"In that case, Legs, we're in big trouble."
Abigail's heart jerked as David gave the wheel another sharp spin and headed for the island. For a moment she was sure they would run aground, but he nosed the sputtering craft between two spits of land, and they passed through an inlet so narrow she could almost touch the lush vegetation on either side.
Inside the small cove he cut the engines. In the sudden quiet they could hear the water slapping against the hull and the faint whisper of the surf. From the distance came the buzz of a speedboat's motor.
The sound grew louder. They waited, not moving. With every second dusk deepened into darkness. Their eyes strained through the gloom, trained on the opening of the narrow inlet.
The distant buzz became a drone, then a high-pitched rumble.