by Cherry Adair
Instead of the muscle-bound “I’m gay” Wes, there stood a dark-haired man with the face of a pirate, the shockingly blue eyes of a fallen angel, and the mouth of a sinner.
Where Wes was all bulging muscle, and a dopey grin, this guy was tall, lean, and muscled like a well-honed athlete. This was power and strength on an understated level, all the more frightening because his strength was subtle.
Daniela’s heart started doing calisthenics as every cell in her body went on red alert. She took an instinctive step back, stumbling as her back hit the bathroom doorjamb.
“Whoa,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm. His deep, vaguely familiar voice sent a frisson of alarm up and down Daniela’s spine, and the familiar cold clench in the pit of her stomach made her entire body feel cased in ice. Oh, no no no.
Where was the exit? Behind him. Trapped. The polished wood door was hard against her back. She dug her stockinged toes into the short nap of the carpet.
Her rational mind knew she was overreacting. She wanted to calm down, but her body knew the consequences of letting down her guard. Better safe than sorry.
He held up both hands and backed away. There wasn’t much room in the small cabin for retreat. “Are you hungry? Wes went to find you something to eat.”
“I’m not.”
“Here. Sit down before you fall down.” He moved out of the way, and indicated one of two bunks. “Wes replaced the wet sheets and added plenty of blankets in case that shower doesn’t do the trick.” His voice was low and calm, but he was still positioned between herself and the only way out.
There was a small window—a square of ink black—in the paneled wall over one of the bunks. She shifted a few feet to lean against the polished teak wall beneath it because her knees felt soft. She was angry at herself for her reaction to this man. He’d given no indication that he’d harm her.
He meant nothing to her, or she to him. No axes to grind, no points to be made. She tried to breathe through her fear. “I’ll stand for a bit.” Shaky and ridiculously weak, she felt her heart thud in a hard, slow, uneven rhythm. All of which annoyed her. She’d grown beyond this knee-jerk reaction to being trapped. She wasn’t trapped. He wasn’t a threat. Breathe. Just breathe through it.
Daniela pushed her wet hair off her face with jittery fingers. Go away. Just get the hell out of here so I can breathe.
There was absolutely no rational reason to believe he’d do her any harm. Daniela wished her body would get the memo. She took a deep, albeit, shuddering breath, hanging on to reason with both hands.
“Sure.” He sat down on the other bunk, arms braced on his thighs, hands clasped loosely between his knees. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt that fit snugly across his broad shoulders and muscled chest. His skin was deeply tanned, his strong forearms covered with crisp dark hair. Even sitting still and seemingly relaxed, he looked virile, predatory, and dangerous as hell.
Daniela could barely inhale as she tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible in her borrowed clothes. Acutely conscious that she wasn’t wearing a bra, she folded her arms over her chest, then thought better of it and dropped her arms to her sides.
“You’re perfectly safe here, I promise. I’m Logan Cutter, and you’re on board my ship Sea Wolf. Who are you, and how did you end up in the water hundreds of miles from anywhere?”
“My name is—” Oh, no. If she gave him her name, one inquisitive click of the mouse on his computer would dredge up everything. She touched the lump on her forehead. “Annie?” Close enough to her pet name Dani not to trip her up.
His forehead creased in a frown. “Don’t you know?”
She shrugged, keeping her expression bland. She eyed the mug of tea on the table between the bunks six feet away, throat so dry she could barely swallow. “It sounds right.”
He reached out, snagged the mug, and rose off the bunk to hand it to her, handle out, then sat down again before she could flinch at his nearness. “How did you come to be in the water, Annie?”
Wrapping both hands around the tepid mug, she gave him a blank look. His frown deepened. “What do you remember?”
“Waking up right there.” She indicated the bunk beside her with her crooked elbow, then sipped the sweet tea.
“Before that?”
She mimicked his frown, trying to read what he was thinking from his inscrutable expression, as she whispered, “Nothing.” Churning black water. The sure knowledge that she was going to drown.
He got slowly to his feet. “Take a seat. I want to check that gash on your head.”
If she knew nothing else, she knew she did not want this man to put those well-shaped hands on her. Anywhere. “It’s okay.”
“You might have a concussion, and probably need stitches. Let me take a look.” After a few seconds’ pause, and a nearly imperceptible tightening around the eyes, he said quietly, “Please.”
Boxed in and out of options—for the moment—Daniela walked around the foot of the bed, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She stiffened, body braced as he sat too close right beside her. The heat of his body was a furnace blast all the way down her left side. The smell of spicy soap on his skin indicated he’d also showered recently.
How in God’s name was she going to explain this situation to him? The answer was, she couldn’t. Eyes downcast, all she saw were his muscled jean-clad legs, and his hair-roughed forearm. All she could think was, danger. In bright red, flashing neon.
“Turn into the light.” His deep voice stroked along her ragged nerve endings like a fur glove.
Eyes closed, Daniela suppressed a shudder, turning her face up toward him. Willing herself not to flinch, she started as he placed the edge of his hand under her chin to turn her head so he could see her injury. Little sparks of electricity zinged between his fingers and her skin. His touch made her skin heat, and was far too intimate.
“Honey, you need to breathe or you’ll pass out. Just relax. I won’t hurt you.” A false assurance she’d heard one too many times.
She breathed in the smell of his clean skin, and a shiver pebbled her skin. “It’s just a bump.”
“The salt water did a good job of disinfecting it, but there’s a cut that may need stitches. I’ll put some antiseptic on it just in case, and a couple of butterfly bandages until we get you to the hospital in Lima and have you checked out.”
Her eyes sprang open in alarm. “No!” God, he was so close, just inches away. Dani had never seen such intensely blue eyes in her life. They did not fill her with confidence. Just the opposite.
“It’ll just sting for a second, I promise—”
“No hospital in Lima. No hospital.” She grabbed at his hand, poised over her face. Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she held on tightly. She didn’t want to touch him, she really, really didn’t want to touch him. His skin was hot, her fingers unable to circle his wrist. “Please. Don’t make me go to Lima.”
“Why not?”
Shit. Why not? “I don’t know.” She let go of him, and instantly felt cold again. “It scares me. Something bad…” Daniela let her voice trail off. The tears flooding her eyes were from exhaustion and frustration, and were real. Possibly the only honest thing she could share with him. He could read into them whatever he liked.
He fingered aside a strand of wet hair where it had fallen over her eye. “Something bad happened to you there?”
“Yes.” She touched the headache pulsing in time with her erratic heartbeat. “No. Maybe. I don’t remember.” The sick feeling in her stomach intensified. This not remembering would only work if Logan Cutter bought into it. But the intelligence in his eyes made mincemeat out of that idea. Not to mention Daniela was pretty sure amnesia didn’t last forever. Still, it would certainly work for tonight. Tomorrow was another day.
He applied antiseptic sharp enough to sting her nose. “How did you manage to fall overboard, Annie?”
A hot, annoying tear rolled down her cheek as she forced herself to meet his incr
edible, piercing azure eyes. He was far too damn close. The heat of his coffee-scented breath tickled her cheek. “I don’t remember.”
Gentle fingers adhered a couple of butterfly bandages across the cut. It almost didn’t hurt like hell. She gritted her teeth.
“All right. Let’s not worry about it tonight. It’s late, and clearly you’re traumatized as well as exhausted. The cut and bump are taken care of for now. Have a good night’s sleep. Nothing bad is going to happen to you on board the Sea Wolf, I promise.”
Daniela prayed he was right.
Two
“How’s she doing?” Wes whispered, as Logan partially closed the cabin door and stepped into the companionway. His two best divers, Wes and Jed, and his captain, Piet Vandyke, were waiting for him. Dog wagged his tail violently as Logan emerged from the cabin. The animal, a salt-and-pepper wolf/Alsatian mix, was reasonably civilized, but he was leery of strangers. Logan figured the woman had had enough trauma for one night. She could meet Dog tomorrow.
“Annie doesn’t remember much more than her name right now,” he said quietly as Jed let go of the dog’s ruff and the beast padded over to butt his head against Logan’s hip. “Either from the trauma, or from that knock on the head. I patched her up, but she refuses to go to the hospital. Thank Dog for seeing her. I sure as hell didn’t.”
He’d been doing tai chi on the aft deck before turning in when the dog had barked manically and refused to stop until Logan went to the rail to see what the hell he was going on about.
“You wanna fly her in, or you want me to do it?” Jed asked. Logan noticed the two unopened beer bottles in his hand. “Chopper’s ready to go.”
Dog’s tail beat a fast rhythm as he looked at the partially open door. Logan absently slid his fingers into the animal’s thick pelt, massaging Dog’s muscled neck. Dog groaned his appreciation, leaning against his legs. “Leave it out, but I don’t think we’ll need it tonight.” The helicopter was folded neatly, and had to be brought up to the helipad by elevator to the deck.
“She polished off the tea, then conked out, exhausted.” And she’d fought sleep as if the hounds of hell were after her. It was only after he insisted she lie down, and at least close her eyes and rest, that she’d reluctantly done so. Her breathing had changed almost instantly, indicating her exhaustion. He’d covered her with a light blanket and left the cabin to come out and talk with the guys.
Logan braced his feet against Dog’s considerable weight. “We’ll let her sleep. See how she’s doing in the morning. Even with the memory loss, whatever she experienced was powerful enough to scare the crap out of her. She begged me not to return her to port.”
“Drop anchor again?” Vandyke, a slight, sandy-haired Dutchman in his mid-forties, had been with Logan for twenty years.
Logan felt the deep-throated throb of the engines beneath his feet, rumbling in preparation for a move to a new dive location. Hopefully the new dive location. “Yeah. For now.”
They’d be going in the morning, because this location had yielded zip—a big, fat, fucking zero—and the crew and divers were bored. The Nuestra Señora de Graza was exactly where Logan had calculated she’d gone down, but they’d found none of the treasure that had been listed on the manifest. Not a single doubloon, gold bar, or emerald. It was as if the galleon had made her return trip from Lima to Spain—empty.
They’d done as much as they wanted to do with the wreck and debris field; time to move on. Logan had reached that conclusion just before he’d pulled Annie from the water.
“Will do.” Piet left to return to the bridge.
“Well,” Jed said considering. “Fishing a beautiful woman out of the drink will relieve the boredom some.”
Boredom wasn’t good on a ship, even one the size of Sea Wolf. Frustration had frayed tempers, even though they were used to the challenge of painstakingly searching for treasure ships. Yet Logan had been so sure his quarry was right where no one else had thought to look. Damn, he hated being wrong. But wrong he was.
“Regrouping and finding our treasure will do that,” he told his friend shortly. “When Annie remembers what happened, one of us can fly her into Lima.”
“Sure.”
Wes wore a worried frown. “Think she fell from one of the cruise ships? Or possibly one of the sports fishing boats?”
“Catch and release as if she were a black marlin?” Logan didn’t think anyone in their right mind would see this woman and throw her away. “No idea. She might be a tourist, but I suspect she might be local.”
“She doesn’t sound local, but, yeah. Maybe. I checked the labels in her clothes. Nothing distinctive,” Wes told him, then added, “Wherever she came from, she should be watched. Concussion or whatever.” He shot a worried frown at the partially open door. His white T-shirt stretched over his wide chest and bulging biceps. “I don’t mind staying with her tonight. She should be woken up every half hour or so.”
Logan shook his head. “Go ahead and turn in. I’ll let you know how she’s doing in the morning.”
“You su—Yeah. Okay. Night.”
“That was pretty decisive,” Jed murmured, amused when Wes’s cabin door shut further down the corridor. The two men were close in height, but where Logan’s hair was dark, and a bit too long, Jed’s was a streaky surfer blond and fell to his shoulders. “Your mermaid has a powerful allure, everyone including Dog wants to protect her.”
“There’s nothing here she needs protecting from,” Logan pointed out testily.
“She doesn’t know that.”
Logan slid his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans. “She’s skittish all right.” More than. “I’m not sure I believed her about the memory loss. But that knob on her head says she might be telling the truth. And honestly, even though most people do, I couldn’t think why she’d lie. If I hadn’t seen her out there in the dark, the questions and answers would be moot. She’d be dead right now.”
“Not prepared to take her at face value?”
Jed knew Logan’s stance on liars well. The two men had been friends for more years than Logan cared to count. The rest of the guys on board were all friends as well as employees. Most had been with him since he bought his first dive boat after he made his first major find and became a multimillionaire at seventeen.
He trusted all of them, but Jed more so than the others. Logan kept offering his friend his own ship, and Jed kept refusing. He liked to dive, but didn’t want the responsibility and all the rest of the shit that was involved in running his own dive team, ship, and crew. The arrangement suited them both.
“Let’s just say I reserve judgment.”
Jed handed a beer over, since neither would be flying tonight. “Fair enough. Pirates?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned against the polished teak wall opposite Logan.
Logan popped the cap. “Christ, anything’s possible out here.” He took a pull of the cold brew. Like an apple, he had one a day, if that. His father had been many things; a drunk was just one of them.
“There wasn’t any indication of another ship nearby, though,” he pointed out. “Just that fishing trawler while we ate dinner, and that was four to five hours ago. The mysterious Annie doesn’t look like the kind of woman who’d enjoy an excursion on a working fishing boat to me.”
“Vandyke’s looking into that, right?” Jed drank his beer, then indicated the open door with the bottle. “Shouldn’t be too hard to track down a fishing boat.”
“Unless it was up to no good,” Logan said grimly. “Could be a kidnapping attempt gone wrong—God only knows there’s plenty of bad shit for people to do way the hell and gone out here if they have a mind for it. Drugs. Pirates. Piet will track down the registry of the trawler, ask some discreet questions of the cruise line. Could be she fell from a pleasure craft day-tripping. Drifted on the tides…”
“Someone is sure to have reported her missing,” Jed speculated, drinking. “We have no idea how long she was in the water.”
“She had
the life vest, but as you saw, it wasn’t fastened properly, and could easily have slipped off her in the swells. It’s a fucking miracle she survived.”
Realizing they weren’t going to move to Logan’s comfortable cabin next door, Dog sighed and lay down at his feet. “Hell of a long shot finding anything, but Piet’s checking the chatter on the radio and the news to see if that’s the case. I don’t want to send up any red flags and alert the wrong people to her location if her fear is founded.”
Jed’s expression was thoughtful. “Any chance this is something cooked up by Case?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Rydell Case was Logan’s nemesis, and while setting some sort of trap was a very un-Case-like thing to do, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he’d use an attractive woman as the bait. The man was devious and dangerous, but usually chillingly direct. Still, Logan didn’t trust him farther than he could throw him. “I don’t put anything past that son of a bitch. But he’s never given the impression that he’s stupid, just the opposite. If he put her in the water for me to find—and God only knows for what purpose—it was damned risky. If Dog hadn’t seen her, she would’ve died out there.”
The fear in her eyes hadn’t been fake, Logan was sure of it. Her amber-brown eyes had looked at him with very real emotion. Whatever had happened to her was probably even more frightening for her because she couldn’t remember. If she couldn’t remember.
“Hell, for all we know she’s a damned good actress, and she has an agenda worth almost dying for.”
Jed smiled. “If you truly believed that, I’d be flying her to Lima right now.”
Every protective instinct Logan had had leapt to the fore when her cold fingers curled around his wrist to hold him at bay.
Jed pushed away from the wall. “Maybe she’ll remember more in the morning.”