Vortex (Cutter Cay)

by Cherry Adair

  “You know it was my slimy Apaza cousins, don’t you?” She told the dog, who had his head across her lap, and his eyes closed. Poor thing was probably sick to his stomach as well.

  “We’ll be okay, Malcolm. Just breathe this nice fresh air and before you know it, we’ll be feeling right as rain.” And I’ll find my cousins and knock their fool heads together. “I have no idea how they pulled this off, but I know they did it. This was no accident.”

  It was too much of a coincidence to believe that on the same day that Logan had placed a chunk of emerald in her hand, and then hauled up a mountain of gold coins and jewelry, that this wasn’t Piero, Angel, and Hugo’s way of scooping up the treasure and hotfooting it back to Lima before anyone was aware that the treasure had been stolen from under their very noses.

  “I told you they were morons. Whatever they took was one day’s haul. If they managed to get anything at all. And they could just as easily have killed us all!”

  By contacting her cousins out of sheer desperation last week, she’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire. She’d run out of money, and out of options. Which of course had been Victor’s objective when he’d sent his goons after her. She ran from one cheap hotel to the next, crisscrossing the country for almost a month.

  She hadn’t been able to access any of her bank accounts, and the cash Special Agent Price had given her, with several sets of fake papers, had run out a week after she arrived in Lima, despite how frugal and conservative she’d been.

  She’d been desperate enough to contact her long-lost cousins, erroneously believing blood was thicker than water.

  Her life had already been crazy scary. Adding her cousins to the mix had just taken crazy scary to a whole new level of danger.

  She could hear indistinct voices carrying over the black water from the deck above. What was going on up there? Had they discovered that their day’s treasure was gone? Had they caught Angel, Hugo, and Piero?

  She shivered even though the air was quite warm and Dog was tucked next to her under a blanket. Her fingers flexed in the animal’s thick pelt. Logan was going to be pissed. She shivered again, a full-body shudder of bone-deep fear.

  “How does he show his anger?” she asked the dog, her voice thick. “Is he a hitter? A yeller?” The blood drained from her head, leaving her dizzy and even more sick to her stomach. “God—worse?”

  If he came at her, she wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate. She looked around for a weapon. This time, she would neither falter nor would she miss.

  * * *

  “This is what we have,” Logan told the assembled group, his tone grim. Everyone was in the common room. The door and windows to the aft and side decks were wide open, letting in the freshening night breeze. “Several hose clamps were removed, hoses were rerouted from the engine exhaust systems in the generator exhaust system. Supposed to, I imagine, lead us into thinking this was an accident.

  “We think Captain Vandyke interrupted them, because we found several canisters of CO hooked up to the ventilation system. We presume they meant to take those with them when they left.” There’d be fingerprints on those, and Logan had them locked securely in Jed’s cabin.

  “Why didn’t the alarms go off?” Cooper demanded.

  “They circumvented the CO detectors in the vents.” When disconnected or tampered with, that would cause a supervisory signal at the main annunciator. Which had been disabled on the bridge. “These people knew their way around a craft. They were in and out, and nobody saw them. The captain was taken from behind and knocked out. Two crew members, one in the engine room, the other returning to his quarters, were coldcocked as well. All three are being transported via chopper to the hospital in Arequipa. Anyone else need to be checked out?”

  He scanned the room. There was a swell of negatives. Relieved, Logan contacted Jed on his headset and told him he could take off.

  “Thank God all of you are all right.” He sat on the arm of one of the comfortable chairs scattered about the room. He heard the throb of the rotors overhead and was pissed. He felt violated. And worried as hell. Not that he’d let that show to the men who were all looking to him for answers.

  “If Dog hadn’t howled for help, we might be telling a different story right now.” They were fortunate more people hadn’t been hurt. Three people were bad enough, but they all had head injuries from being struck; they didn’t have to be rushed into a hyperbaric chamber for treatment.

  “Who did this?” Galt demanded. His bald head was shiny with perspiration. He still looked green around the gills, and ready to pass out. The carbon monoxide had affected everyone slightly differently. Logan hadn’t been hurt at all because of his close proximity to the open door in his cabin.

  Fortunately, Logan, Piet, and Jed had advanced medical training. But Piet had a serious head wound and would require a hell of a lot of stitches. The other two men had minor wounds. He and Jed had got everyone sorted out, then Jed had gotten the chopper ready. Logan wasn’t taking any chances. They shouldn’t have had to handle anything, damn it.

  Once he’d established that everyone was back to normal, he’d dispatched them to search the ship in pairs if they were mobile. They’d gone from stem to stern looking for the culprit; but the only thing found were the redirected hoses and CO cylinders.

  They all had drinks, either soft or alcoholic—God only knew they deserved a drink under the circumstances—and they were crowded into the room so that everyone was in the loop.

  “Rydell Case,” Logan told them grimly.

  “Shit! Seriously?” Galt demanded.

  “How did none of us see his ship?” Cooper demanded, pissed.

  Earl Horner scowled as he got up to refill his glass. “Isn’t he tied up in all that legal red tape in Cape Town?”

  “Last we heard.” Logan’s tone was grim. Inside he was seething with fury. This time Case had gone too fucking far. The sight of Annie unconscious would haunt him. “Either he slithered out of that tangle, or possibly he sent someone else.” Saying it aloud made Logan realize that didn’t make sense, unless Case had changed his MO. He liked the hands-on approach.

  “What about those cousins of Annie’s?” Vanek demanded.

  “Possibly. I’ll make inquiries.” Logan, who was drinking strong black coffee, paused with the mug to his lips. “We’ll take it from there.”

  This time he refused to let their lawyers deal with Rydell Case. This time he’d deal with the son of a bitch himself.

  “Who checked today’s haul?” Izak Vanek straightened from his slouched position in one of the easy chairs scattered throughout the room.

  “Relax,” Cooper told him. “Horner and I checked there first. Everything is exactly like we left it earlier.”

  “Nothing touched?” Galt asked, surprised. “Are you serious? Maybe it was the Sea Witch? Easier to come aboard and take directly instead of diving for it.”

  “She’s foolish enough to dive alone,” Logan told the men. “But I doubt she’d be stupid enough to board our vessel alone. There are people wandering around at all hours. She would’ve been seen.”

  “Well, someone came on board, and that someone, or someones, was not seen,” Vanek pointed out, his fingers white around a beer bottle.

  His guest’s relatives, or Case? The bastard would’ve done the job himself. And gotten great satisfaction in doing so. Doing so and then getting away cleanly without leaving a clue behind. That was Case’s MO. One phone call would tell Logan where the man was. This seemed more like a Case trick than something done by Annie’s cousins. But he’d know who was where soon enough. Piet had already called the authorities.

  Worried about Annie and Dog, Logan got to his feet. Everyone appeared to be fine. No one had the cherry-red–tinged skin indicating a high level of carbon monoxide, no one was still puking, or exhibiting signs of poisoning. “Clearly he wanted it to look like an accident.”

  “Question is,” Jed said grimly meeting Logan’s eyes, “did he mean to kill us, or
was this a shot across our bow in retaliation for the South African lawsuit?”

  “I don’t know,” Logan said grimly. “But I’m damn sure going to find out.”

  Eight

  If not for Logan, she’d be dead.

  Daniela had thought the Sea Wolf would be the safest place for her to wait. She’d been deluding herself. Her idiot cousins must’ve decided not to allow Logan to get all the treasure up before stealing it. Maybe tossing her in the ocean had been a prelude to their plans to kill her, and leave no witnesses. She hadn’t believed they could pull something like this off.

  How had they managed to sneak on board and target her cabin? Her mouth dried. Was it that specific? Maybe the entire ship was affected. What if someone else had been stuck in the cabin and was now seriously ill, or worse, dead? It was as bad as if …

  Daniela went hot, then ice cold.

  “Dear God.” Not her cousins at all. “Victor?” Had he found her after all? Had her sense of triumph at outwitting him been nothing but an illusion?

  Panic flooded her system.

  Dog yelped, and she realized her fingers were digging into his ruff as if she were hanging on for dear life. “Sorry, boy. OhGod, ohGod, ohGod.”

  How had he tracked her down? Her mind unfroze, sending her thoughts spinning a mile a minute. “Calm down,” she ordered in a voice thin with fear. “The chances of the cousins skulking aboard are much higher than Victor finding me.” They were.

  “I’m breathing,” she assured the dog, who stared up at her with worried golden eyes.

  The cousins were the more logical threat. They might be out of sight, but she knew they’d be keeping a close watch on the Sea Wolf to claim what they believed was theirs.

  The last place Victor’s people had seen her was Florida. A world away.

  There was a third possibility. The gas leak had been an accident. Daniela let out a shuddering breath and crossed her fingers.

  “Accidents happen every day, right, boy? Yes, they do.” She needed more information, and if it looked as though the cousins were responsible, it was her duty to inform Logan.

  She wasn’t thinking beyond that. She couldn’t.

  Daniela staggered to her feet, then wobbled her way through Logan’s dimly lit cabin. Guilt assailed her as she noticed her host’s huge bed, covers pushed onto the floor. She’d disrupted his life, his ship, his dive. Daniela winced, wondering if he thought the finding of La Daniela was a worthy trade for the trouble that had come with the information.

  The décor of his spacious cabin, much like the rest on board, was predominantly black and white, his appreciation for color evident in the two massive paintings. One hung over his bed, the other over a stunning ultramodern glass gas fireplace on the opposite wall. Daniela was familiar with both artists.

  She’d had a gallery show for Rosslyn Klinger last year. In fact, this very oil, of a deserted tropical beach, two pairs of wet footprints in the sand facing each other, and a discarded top of a blue bikini, had had pride of place in her gallery. It had sold to an anonymous buyer for a staggering amount. Logan Cutter. Wow. It was a strangely small world.

  She went into her cabin, closed and locked the door, then went into the tiny bathroom and turned on the shower.

  He’d chosen the bright young stars of the future, and he’d chosen very well. These two oversize pieces alone would be worth a fortune in a few years. He’d made sound investments. He was a very smart man.

  The thought that the Klinger painting had once hung in her Washington, DC, gallery, and now, a year later, hung over Logan Cutter’s massive bed a world away, was chilling. She didn’t want the world to be this small. Especially while Victor was scouring the planet looking for her.

  Still a little nauseous and dizzy, she forced herself to step into a cool shower until she regained her equilibrium.

  Feeling considerably better, she dressed in record time, linen drawstring pants in an eye-popping pink and a white T-shirt. She called it good, then glanced in the mirror. Armor it wasn’t, but now she at least had on a bra, which beat walking around half-dressed.

  “I have to warn him,” she said to her reflection.

  Uncertainty flickered in the gaze staring back at her. “If what Wes said about him is true, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t throw me overboard for the whoppers I’ve told him.”

  She gripped the counter and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.” And it was true. The more she moved, the better she felt. Physically, anyway. After she drank several glasses of water, the nausea abated, and she was no longer light-headed. “Good. At least I won’t fall over when I deliver the bad news to Cutter.” Whatever was going on with the rest of the ship was her business, too. She padded back through Logan’s cabin to check on Dog, even though she heard him snoring out on the balcony.

  The animal lifted his head from his nest of blankets as she came outside and leaned over to rub between his ears. “It’s okay, Doofus. Go back to sleep.” The dog tilted his head as if trying to understand her, then snuffled, laid his nose on his paws, and closed his eyes.

  Turning to the water, she curled her fingers around the smooth wood topping the Plexiglas half-wall, the wind lifting the damp strands of her hair around her neck and face. Lights from the various decks above and below reflected in the black water, and indistinct voices melted into the sound of the ocean slapping against the ship.

  The tension was palpable, the air thick with ominous murmurs and whispered threats. Her paranoia was back with a vengeance. Damn it. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, she’d allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of calm, believing that the cousins wouldn’t make their move until Logan and his team had gotten all the treasure from the bottom of the ocean.

  They’d barely waited forty-eight hours.

  And to sabotage his ship?! Holy Mother of God. They were insane. When they’d thrown her into the pitch-dark ocean with nothing more than a life vest to keep her afloat until—if—someone on board the Sea Wolf discovered her, that had only been criminal stupidity.

  But if they’d come on board Logan Cutter’s ship … She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed the goose bumps on her bare skin.

  The situation was escalating, and she wasn’t sure what to do to stop it. Logan would most certainly ensure she was taken back to Lima, if she asked. She suspected he’d be more than happy to get rid of her, but that didn’t resolve anything.

  Her cousins would hound Logan until they had what they believed was rightfully theirs.

  And without money or resources, she’d be in a world of hurt alone in Lima. She just had to stay alive for two weeks. But was her life worth more than Logan’s, or his crew’s?

  Trapped. Damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.

  She was as tense as a bowstring, and rotated her shoulders to try and ease her knotted muscles. Daniela shivered as the chill permeated her entire body. It was so damned illogical of those idiots to come charging in before they knew what Cutter had found. Or if he’d found anything at all! How could they know one way or the other?

  She and Logan had been lucky, but other people on board might not have been swooped up and taken into the fresh air. God forbid, someone could have been seriously harmed, possibly have died tonight because of her family.

  Logan could probably use another pair of hands. Doing what, she had no idea. But if nothing else, she could make coffee. She turned away from the never-ending expanse of midnight water, and went through the billowing drapes, back into the dimly lit cabin.

  The wood floors felt cool and smooth beneath her bare feet as she walked the perimeter of the room, stepping onto one of several soft, thick area rugs dotted about the dark floor. She picked up a smooth piece of jade from a shelf, running her thumb over it as she rambled, delaying the inevitable even while she knew that the faster she told Logan, the faster it would be over.

  She had no idea how he reacted to bad news. G
od … There was nowhere to run on a boat in the middle of the Pacific. She was at his mercy. Damn it, she was sick of being a victim. Sick to death of being afraid. Sick of running.

  Five more minutes and she’d go and find him. She was still a little queasy. Daniela let her gaze pause every now and then on something interesting. There were a lot of fascinating artifacts from his travels scattered about in a very deliberate way. He must have hundreds of interesting stories.

  Not that she’d be around to hear them.

  Please, God, let this be over in a couple of weeks.

  Over, leaving what in its wake? The gallery was closed. Her disappearance had been explained by her frantic-with-worry fiancé as “mysterious and troubling,” her mental health put under a microscope. Victor was clever that way.

  They’d never been engaged, and her disappearance had been far from mysterious. She’d fled the second she knew Victor would kill her before she testified. The fact that she was still very much alive, despite the hit man he’d sent to that cheap motel in Pensacola, must be very troubling for Senator Stamps. She hoped he’d be troubled right into prison.

  And standing around delaying the inevitable wasn’t helping anyone. Dragging in a deep breath, she left Logan’s cabin, heading to the lower deck where she knew the men gathered in the evenings.

  “Warn him and offer to leave.” She rolled her shoulders again and kept moving. One thing at a time. She bumped into Wes and Galt going down the stairs.

  “Annie.” Wes touched a large hand to her shoulder, “Are you okay? Any nausea? Headache? Anything?”

  “I’m perfectly fine. Was anyone else affected?”

  “Not from the g—” Wes nudged Galt in the arm.

  “Does Logan know you’re wandering about?” Wes gave her a worried frown as they reached the lower landing and heard the sound of voices.

  “I’m a big girl. Capable of wandering on my own for some time now,” she told him dryly, giving his Hawaiian surf shorts an amused glance despite the tension roiling in her stomach. “Where’s he meeting everyone?”