Vortex (Cutter Cay)

by Cherry Adair

  “In there,” Galt told her, while he met Wes’s eyes over her head. “Maybe you should wait in your cabin? I’m sure Logan will fill you in when he’s got everybody’s reports.”

  “I’m sure he will, but since I’m here.” She smiled as she looked up and up and up. Steve Galt must be at least six eight or nine, and had to stoop to get between sections of the ship. “I’ll save him some time.” She couldn’t wait, not for this.

  They entered the room to find a group of men already gathered. Logan and Jed stood near the open doors talking quietly. Cutter wore black shorts. That was it. Black shorts. The man didn’t like clothes, apparently. And just as apparently it didn’t matter how many times she saw him half naked; the sight made Daniela’s mouth go dry and her heartbeat accelerate. The reaction had nothing to do with nerves.

  As if he sensed her on the opposite side of the room, Logan’s head swiveled and their eyes met. He scowled. Oh. Not a happy camper. Daniela mouthed, “I have to talk to you.”

  He shook his head even as he turned back to Jed and a crewman. They talked for several minutes, as more divers and crew came and went. The room hummed with a current that was palpable.

  “I’ll go help Hipolito with coffee, sandwiches maybe…” she trailed off as Wes pointed to the buffet table by the open slider. Nobody seemed to have touched anything. “Never mind.” It had just been a delaying tactic, she knew.

  “He’s right in the middle of this, Annie. Can’t it wait?” Wes said quietly. “Someone sabotaged Sea Wolf, and we’re trying to put all the pieces together.”

  Wes was still talking, Daniela could see his lips moving, but all the sound in the room was muffled, as if she were hearing it underwater. Sabotage. So they had endangered everyone. It didn’t make her feel any better having her suspicions confirmed.

  “I have a missing piece to his puzzle,” Daniela told him flatly, edging closer to Logan in the hope she could zip in and tell him what she had to tell him and then leave. She waited for him to finish talking to Cooper. But then another of the crew stepped in, and spoke with his hands. Logan scowled.

  He turned back to Horner and they exchanged a few more words before the diver strode off. Everyone was strung tight, which didn’t help ease Daniela’s feelings of anger and guilt for the role she played in this. What she had to tell him wasn’t going to make him any happier, and after several minutes, she moved through the men clustered in the middle of the room. “Excuse me. Sorry. Thanks.”

  When she reached Logan, she laid her hand on his arm. Big mistake; it was like touching a live wire. She quickly dropped her hand when he whipped his head around as if he’d been poked by a cattle prod. “Unless you know something about the gas leak, whatever it is can wait,” he said tightly. “I have a situation—”

  “Of course it has a direct bearing,” she assured him. “Why else would I bother you? He’ll be right back,” she told the two men he was talking to. “I just need thirty seconds of your time. Outside?”

  “Make it ten.” He indicated she precede him out onto the side deck. It was bright as day with all the lights on.

  The breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders as she went to the rail. There was not much to see out there but white-tipped black water. She turned her back and leaned against the rail, drawing in a ragged breath.

  Awareness sparked to life as he ran his turbulent ocean-colored eyes over her. His dark hair was rumpled as if he’d been shoving his fingers through it, his gaze shadowed. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

  “I wanted to talk to you before I—Logan, I’m sorry,” she rushed into tumbled speech, her voice low. “It was the Apazas.”

  He frowned, adjusted his earpiece to give her his full attention. Even half his attention, she’d found, was too intense. “The Apazas?”

  She heard a loud throb and whirring sound overhead. A helicopter? She hadn’t seen one on board—maybe it was landing?

  It sounded as if it was taking off. A few seconds later a small dragonfly with a helicopter’s blinking lights flew overhead and away. “Jed,” he told her absently. “What’s this about the Apazas?”

  “My cousins did—” she waved a vague hand. “Whatever. We all could’ve died. You should press charges.”

  A muscle in his jaw jerked, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Are you saying you’ve been in contact with them since you’ve been on board my ship?”

  “No. I—Of course not, how would I—”

  “Then how do you know who tampered with the hoses?”

  “Hoses?” she repeated blankly.

  “And brought canisters of CO aboard. Carbon monoxide has been leaking into the interior spaces for who knows how long. If you haven’t been in contact, how do you know it was them?”

  She gripped the smooth rail until she thought she might snap it in two. “You brought up a fortune in treasure from the sea today,” she pointed out, her voice tight. “Who else could it be?”

  He came to stand beside her, then leaned his elbows on the rail, his big hands hanging over the smooth wood. He turned his head to look at her. He was very close. “Oh, believe me, plenty of people.”

  Daniela frowned. “Plenty of people?”

  “This is a business where everyone feels entitled to take your pie before you’ve had a chance to pick up your fork. So yeah. Could’ve been your cousins, could’ve been someone sent by Case, could be your common garden-variety pirate.”

  “Trust me. My cousins are after what you brought to the surface today. This was their way of getting it on the extra easy plan.”

  “The exhaust hoses were cut and rerouted. Containers were found discharging the gas into the ventilation system. Overkill, to put it mildly.”

  “Hugo would probably know how to do that. He used to be a technician at a heating and air-conditioning company.”

  “This whole thing feels too sophisticated to have been them, from what you’ve told me. Still, they’ll be picked up for questioning. It’s a miracle that nobody was fatally injured. Alarm systems were deactivated. The captain was struck violently over the head while on the bridge. As were two crewmen as they went about their business,” he told her, then jerked his chin to the helicopter’s lights in the distance. “Jed’s getting them to the hospital.”

  Her chest felt tight with strain. “Who else would possibly kill an entire ship of people for just a sample of your treasure? Who else is that stupid and shortsighted?”

  He seemed closer to her, but maybe it was a trick of the light. “Who else?” His tone was mocking, his jaw tight. “Anyone who wanted to get their hands on a fortune in gold and emeralds. I can think of at least two other people with even stronger motives than your charming cousins.”

  The air left Daniela’s constricted lungs. Relief flooded her veins. Not the cousins. Maybe. She drew in a breath of relief. “Who?”

  “Hell, we have an embarrassment of suspects right now.” He rubbed the bristle on his jaw. “Could be either Rydell Case or the Sea Bitch, or both for all I know. From the little you’ve told me about your guys, I’m not sure they have all the skills they’d need. On the other hand, it’s not as if you know everything about them on such short acquaintance.”

  He cupped her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into his strength, as he said evenly, “Whoever boarded was familiar with this type of ship, and I’d hazard a guess, professional.”

  She tried to swallow, her throat too dry. Her legs felt rubbery and insubstantial. Locking her knees, she pressed a shaking hand to her throat. Her nausea and dizziness returned with a vengeance. She could barely push the words out as she stared at him blankly. “Professional … what?”

  Victor’s assassins?!

  * * *

  White-faced, Annie swayed on her bare feet as Logan responded, “Professional thiev—Whoa!” He lunged, grasping her upper arms as her knees sagged.

  She blinked up at him as if swimming up through a fog. “Th—thieves?”

  His fingers tightened
around her upper arms as she wilted. He shouldn’t have left her alone. Damn it, she should be in the chopper with the others. “I’ll have Jed turn around and come get you—”

  “No! No, it’s nothing. Really. I don’t have my sea legs, and I felt a little dizzy, that’s all.”

  “Sure?” He realized she didn’t seem to be aware that he was practically supporting her weight. Her skin felt cold beneath his hands.

  “I—” She ran her tongue over her lips in an unconsciously provocative swipe that had Logan’s body humming. “Yes. Positive.” She tried to maneuver away, but Logan wasn’t sure she was capable of standing just yet.

  He ran his thumbs up the silky smooth skin over surprisingly firm biceps. She blinked a couple of times, but didn’t jerk out of his hold. He stroked her arms again, and felt the fine tremor, hyperaware of her reaction to his touch. If she expressed even a shadow of fear, he’d make sure she was steady, and he’d let go. He checked her pupils to see if the carbon monoxide was still affecting her. Jesus. Who was he fooling? How would he know? Dilated could mean the low lighting, could mean damn-well anything at this point. “Damn it, you’re shaking like a leaf. I’ll call J—”

  “No—”

  “Hospital,” they said in unison.

  Logan swung her up in his arms. For a moment she stiffened, and her eyes went wide. “Put me down.” Her fist skated off his bare shoulder as she tried to push him away.

  He tightened his arms beneath her legs and around her back. “No.” He figured she was so focused on either the conversation, or trying not to pass out, she didn’t notice he was carrying her back inside. He gave Wes a small shake of his head and he started forward, a worried look on his face. “I won’t drop you.”

  “I’ll drop you,” she said through clenched teeth. “I don’t like being manhandled.” She arched her back, stiffening her legs. “Put. Me. Down.”

  It was like carrying a cat in a sack as she squirmed to get her legs free. “Pretend I’m the doctor.” His hold was inextricable, but he was very aware that he had to be gentle with her. Didn’t mean he was letting her go. Not right now. He took the stairs three at a time, reaching his deck in record time.

  She gave him a slitted look that spoke volumes, as he maneuvered her so he could reach his key card in his front pocket. Annoyance pinked her cheeks. “I’ve never played doctor, and I don’t intend to start now—”

  He carried her inside, the door open so Dog could race out and disappear down the companionway. “He’s obviously feeling better. I have a question for you.”

  “I didn’t do it,” she said flatly. “I can barely work my toaster.”

  As he continued across the cabin, turning off some of the lights as he went, she gave him a defiant look. Since her face was only a few inches away, he could read fear in her eyes. He cursed himself for putting it there.

  “Planning on throwing me overboard?” He carried her out onto the patio and scooped up the soft throw he’d wrapped her in earlier. “Because there’s always some guy who has a hero complex that’ll dive in and save me.”

  He carried her back inside, and rounded the foot of the bed. “Were you raped, Annie?”

  He sat down on the edge of the mattress, her across his lap.

  “What a strange question. No.”

  “You swear?”

  “Yes.”

  He got comfortable, one shoulder propped against the headboard. “Is that true?”

  “You can believe anything you please. I wasn’t raped. Shouldn’t you tell someone to go after my cousins?”

  “Already done.” She wiggled on his lap, and he realized she wasn’t pulling away, just getting comfortable. Something in his gut eased a little.

  Her silky hair tumbled over the hand he had bracing her shoulders, and he tucked a strand of it behind her ear. He slid that hand up to cup the back of her head. Unable to resist touching her skin, he brushed the edge of his thumb across her cheek. Her breath caught in a sexy little intake, and this time he knew it was desire that made her pupils dilated.

  He traced his thumb in a feather-soft caress across her cheekbone, and was rewarded as he felt warmth seep into her chilled skin. “I’m going to kiss you, Annie. Brace yourself.”

  She put her palm between their mouths, eyes narrowed to glittering slits over her fingers. “Don’t even try it.” The hard edge in her voice made something inside him crumple, and he gentled his hold even more. Interesting; she didn’t make any attempt to get off his lap. She reclined in his arms, shooting daggers.

  Daggers he could deal with. “Don’t be afraid of me,” his command was soft. “I’ll never hurt you.”

  “If I had a quarter for every time a man said that…”

  “Not this man.”

  For several slow, thudding heartbeats she said nothing. Logan could almost hear her mind processing the information. He felt a lie tremble through her body, then she pulled the rug out from under him when she said, “I wasn’t raped, but I was … was traumatized,” she told him baldly, barely above a raw whisper. “Seriously, badly traumatized. I don’t like—”

  He didn’t ask who, and he didn’t ask when. His suspicions were confirmed. She’d tell him, eventually, and he’d go after the son of a bitch. But for now, Logan didn’t let his thoughts show. The cabin was dim and filled with shadows, his ship quiet; a cool breeze stirred the sheer drapes beside the open doors.

  His throat tightened as he held her lithe body as gently as he would an injured baby bird. She didn’t fly away. “I’ll never do anything with you that you don’t like.”

  She gave him a hostile look from bruised amber eyes. “I don’t like anything.”

  He brushed the outer shell of her ear with the hand threaded through her hair, and felt her shiver. “Tough girl.”

  “Yes,” she assured him, meeting his eyes head-on over the barricade of her fingers. “I am. I’ve had to be.”

  “I won’t mess with you, then.” He brushed his lips over the back of her hand. Her skin was cold and slightly clammy. God. Who’d done this to her? “How about this?” he murmured, stroking his lips across her knuckles. “Hate it? Love it? Don’t care?”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Hmm. How about…” Logan turned the barricade between them gently, then pressed his lips to the center of her palm. “This?”

  Her fingers curled defensively, brushing his cheek. “Don’t care,” she told him tightly. Just a rim of brown showed around her pupils, but her gaze was steady.

  She’d forgotten one simple thing. He was a treasure hunter. Going after the difficult was a piece of cake. Going after the impossible—that just took more time.

  Nine

  “The guys all set?” Jed asked as Logan came onto the bridge the next morning.

  “Yeah.” Early morning dew beaded the large windows without impeding the view. The ocean was a sheet of coral glass blending almost seamlessly with the sky. “They know their shit.”

  The guys in question were the six security men Jed had brought back from Arequipa half an hour before. “Good job at such short notice.”

  “Mpho worked on the systems last night—or this morning, rather, to get everything back to speed.” The taciturn engineer, whose last name was even harder to pronounce than his first, had voiced his displeasure at people screwing with his ship. He and his crew were in the process of checking every nut, bolt, and screw in each piece of machinery and equipment on board. Twice, if Logan knew his engineer.

  Annie had fallen asleep in his arms, something he was pretty sure she hadn’t planned on doing at the start of the evening. He’d tugged the cashmere throw over her shoulders as the air chilled, then listened to her breathe, while wondering how bad things had been for her, and what the hell she was hiding. After half an hour, he’d reluctantly returned her to her cabin. He’d whistled low for Dog.

  “Good boy.” He pointed to a spot beside the bed. “Sit. Stay. Anyone so much as breathes the same air as her, bite ’em.” Dog padded to the s
pot, planted his butt, ears pricked, eyes alert. He wouldn’t lie down until Logan told him he was off duty. With the dog on guard, Logan went to meet with his men.

  The dive team was forgoing today’s dive to assist the security guys wherever was needed, starting with checking each piece of dive equipment. The crew was still scouring every cabin, every room, every square inch of Sea Wolf for signs of more tampering. Then those that could, switched places and went through everything again.

  Logan was coldly furious. Everyone on board had the same sense of violation, and almost everyone wondered if there was something they could have—should have—done to stop the saboteurs. Piet and the two crewmen hadn’t stood a chance, but they felt guilty as hell, even though Logan didn’t blame them for being overwhelmed.

  Piet walked in. The sandy-haired Dutchman had a bandage on the side of his head and a pissed-off glint in his eye. He was dressed in white shorts and a golf shirt with epaulets on the shoulders. He was rarely this formal. He was dressed for war. “Get off my bridge,” he told them evenly. “I’m not dead, and a little headache won’t prevent me from doing my job.”

  Jed shook his head. “You had a concussion.”

  “Well, I don’t have it now,” Piet told him sourly as he waved a hand to get them to move. “I have things to deal with, and you’ll just be in my way.”

  “How many stitches?” Logan asked, scanning the older man’s face to assess whether he really was fit enough to be back. Jed had called from the hospital and told him the captain and crewmen were insisting on being allowed to report back to the ship.

  “Twelve or so.”

  “What did the doctors say?”

  “To go back to work, and find out who sabotaged my ship.”

  Logan smiled. “We’re all taking his advice.” He updated the captain before leaving to corral his own crew and meet with their engineer. He stopped at the door to take one last look at Vandyke.

  Piet turned his back, then glanced over his shoulder. “You two still here?”