by Incy Black
He sat on the edge of the marble bath with Anna on his knee while he stripped her. He’d already turned the shower to hot. No way was he putting her in a bath, not with the debris that would float around her. At least under flowing water, it would flush straight down the drain.
He hated to lower her down onto the hard tile, but he couldn’t wash her hair or soap her down while holding her, and the way she was quaking, there was no way she could stand on her own.
He scrubbed the horror from her body as gently he could, then left her for another five minutes under the steam and the heavy downpour of water for good measure. He knew time would be the only thing to erase the hideous images that must be tearing at her brain. But Anna had a strong mind. The strongest. Wrapping a thick towel around her, he hoped to God he was right.
Dice was waiting for them when Nick, with Anna in his arms, emerged from the en suite. He’d been joined by two additional men, and each had his gun raised to track Nick’s every move.
He pretended to ignore them, though he knew the exact position of each, his mind computing what moves he’d have to make should he need to take them down. He eased Anna onto the bed and pulled the covers over her at the same time as he slid the damp towel free. A red cotton dress lay draped across the back of a chair. He grabbed it and passed it to Anna. “Use the sheets for cover while you put this on. Okay?”
She caught his arm, pulled him close. “You’ll get me off this boat, Nick. Promise me.”
He nodded. He’d do whatever it took. The click of the safety being disengaged on three guns sounded behind him. Nick pulled to his full height slowly, and turned to face Dice and his backup squad. “Do you really think the presence of armed men is going to help her right now? Wait outside,” he ordered.
“You are not the one in charge around here, Marshall,” snarled Antila as he entered the cabin, a nervous man at his side.
Probably the doctor, Nick figured, judging by the officious leather case he carried at his side.
“But you are right; she needs no reminder of the violence she witnessed. Get out, all of you, and”—Antila jerked his head at Nick—“take him with you. I’ll deal with him later.”
Anna released another god-awful scream. And held it.
The blood drained from Antila’s face. “Get out all of you! Marshall, see to her. Quick.”
Nick took his own sweet time crossing to the bed. He’d caught the silent just-trust-me plea Anna had sent him from behind Antila’s turned back. Taking Anna in his arms, he whispered his admiration. “Good girl.”
Her nod against his chest was slight but unmistakable.
But so too were the little tremors racking her frame. He didn’t doubt that they were for real. Earlier than he had expected, Devil’s Whim was already pitching and rolling against the sea that was fast turning angry.
“She’s phobic about water,” he warned Antila. “With a storm approaching, the next few hours are going to be rough on her.”
The doctor wanted to give Anna a sedative. She declined, and when the hesitant man glanced across at Antila, Nick backed her up. “Unless you can guarantee it won’t harm the baby, she’s right,” he said, looking the biological father straight in the eye. “Don’t you think you’ve pumped enough poison into her veins this past week?”
Antila nodded a dismissal to the doctor, then crossed to the foot of the bed where he could better look down on her. “Is there anything else you need?”
Her response was to reach out and grab Nick’s hand.
Antila got the message and turned to take his leave. He paused on the threshold of the door. “There are two men posted outside this door. Cross me, Anna, and they will shoot your Nick Marshall dead. I have already given the order that they must not hesitate to do so, should even the smallest incident arouse their suspicions.”
As soon as the door closed, Nick crossed to it, leaned in, and pressed his ear close. He heard the muffled murmur of Antila issuing more orders, though he couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Turning to face Anna, he raised his forefinger to his lips in the universal signal for silence and gave an abrupt shake of his head to reinforce his warning.
Crossing to her, he gathered her into his arms, his mouth close to her ear. “They likely have the place bugged and can hear every word, so be careful what you say.”
The look she gave him when he eased away made it clear she didn’t consider herself completely stupid.
He grinned. “Sleep, Anna,” he ordered loudly.
He didn’t need to kick off his boots before sliding beneath the sheets to join her. Dice had provided replacement clothing but not footwear. Anything to slow him down should he try and make a run for it. Idiot man—should have figured out by now that he’d walk willingly barefoot over semi-molten shards of glass if it meant keeping Anna safe.
Easing an arm beneath her shoulders, he drew Anna close. He never thought he’d say it but the danger of eavesdroppers had its compensations. “You okay? You look hellishly pale.”
“I’ll live.”
“Yes, you will,” he responded, giving her a little squeeze. “But I still have to leave you, sweetheart, I can’t let the team down. You okay with that?”
She nodded mutely before qualifying her acceptance. “Just move fast, Nick, because if they catch you—”
He hugged her tighter. “They won’t. But I have to figure out a way to get out of here.”
Devil’s Whim rose and then dipped. A glass on the cabinet beside the bed skidded across the wooden surface and crashed to the floor. Anna damn near left her skin and hit the ceiling. “I’ve got an idea,” she cried.
Before he could stop her, she was hammering on the door, yelling that Antila had better get his ass down here fast, or she wouldn’t be answerable for her own actions.
The man didn’t stand a chance when he entered the cabin. Anna was on him immediately. “I want to go up, way up near the top deck. It’s too far away from the life rafts down here. The stateroom, I’ll sit this out up there, but I am not being locked down here in this floating coffin.”
Antila made the mistake of trying to calm her as if she were a hysterical child convinced a monster lurked in the cupboard. “You have nothing to be scared of. This yacht can’t sink. You need to remain rational, maybe a glass of warm milk would help.”
Teutonic plates shifted as she let the man have it. Nick almost felt sorry for the mighty crime lord.
She was midway through her rant when Devil’s Whim heaved heavily to one side. She would have fallen had Antila not reached out to steady her.
“That’s it. I’m definitely not staying down here. It’s not safe. We’re going to sink; I know we’re going to sink.” A touch of hysteria skirted the high notes of her whimper.
Nick frowned. He’d never heard Anna whimper, not like that. She wasn’t the sort.
Antila didn’t know that. He issued orders for the stateroom to be prepared, and with his arms around Anna, made to herd her out the door.
She turned and snarled at Nick. “You’re not coming. I don’t want you anywhere near me. This is your bloody fault. If you hadn’t interfered, I would still be on dry land, not out here waiting to drown.”
Nick did his best not to gape. Just what the hell was Anna playing at?
“You’re not going to drown,” Antila insisted sharply before issuing a curt order to the men. “Take him down below. Make sure he’s locked up. I’m going to have my hands full keeping this woman calm without worrying about him running free.”
Anna may have suckered Antila—who looked insufferably smug that he was the one to whom she had turned—but not Nick. But for the risk it would give the game away, he’d have crossed to her and kissed her stupid. She’d engineered this scenario to give him the chance he needed. The chance, once he’d dealt with his guards, to put their escape plan into effect. She’d even managed to ensure he knew where she’d be taken. The stateroom, where it would be easier to get her off the yacht. Smart woman,
his Anna. Utterly fucking reckless, but smart.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her hell later though. He could have done with some warning. Her communication skills needed work.
Chapter Sixteen
Anna didn’t like the fact that Antila kept disappearing, leaving her, though never alone. Two guards always remained behind. She’d guessed he was checking on his wife. He certainly looked more strained each time he returned.
She couldn’t bring herself to admire the man he was, but she had to credit him for the man he could have been. In his own way, he cared. Deeply. For the boy-child he thought she carried, and for his unstable wife, Antoinette.
She was almost envious. She’d yet to be the center of anyone’s universe. Nick just wasn’t that kind of man. Didn’t stop her loving him though, with every fiber of her being. If he thought he stood a hope of her disappearing from his life again, he had another think coming. She’d smashed through the doors he’d slammed against her in the past. She fully intended to keep doing so.
She shot a quick glance at Antila’s profile, and a rush of sympathy washed through her. Had the choices he’d made in his life been different, he might have made a fine man. She refused to believe anyone was born bad. Just as she refused to believe the sins of the fathers were revisited on sons or daughters. She’d teach her daughter that. Would continue to convince Nick of the same, if he gave her the chance.
She noticed the strain lines around Antila’s mouth. Sod discretion. She opened her own, to urge him to go to his wife. Devil’s Whim pitched wildly. A cry of alarm escaped her instead.
Antila reached to steady her. “Have the doctor attend my quarters immediately. He must stay with her,” he ordered Dice.
She presumed by “her,” he meant his wife.
“Don’t feel you have to stay with me. I know you must have other…um…things to be dealing with. I’ll be fine. You said yourself this boat can’t sink.”
“That’s right, it can’t, but the storm is likely to get worse before it blows itself out. I can feel you shaking. I will remain here with you.”
She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not, but as the vessel lurched again, she was damned glad that he’d chosen to stay. The remaining guard even had to resort to gripping one of the ornamental pillars to keep upright.
“But for your irrational fear of water, you’d have made a fine sailor, Anna. Most would have been losing their suppers by now, but not you. My son will be strong. He is lucky to share your genes. Both our genes. He will be a worthy successor, when the time comes.”
The roll of the ship didn’t affect her stomach, but the possessive pride behind his words did. It was all the reminder she needed. Antila, however caring he might appear, only wanted a son. The little girl growing inside her would never be good enough to satisfy his ambition for an heir. With little to lose, she was tempted to tell him the truth. Hiding it felt like a betrayal of her daughter.
She eased away from the man as if he might contaminate her. God, she hoped Nick was all right. She needed him. Did he know that? Had she ever told him? Had she ever really admitted that to herself or just taken for granted he’d always be around to get her out of trouble? Unpleasant challenges, guilt-inducing questions, but at least they distracted her. If she got out of this alive, she’d face them and put things right. If she was going to bare her soul, the least Nick could do was listen.
When Dice returned, her relief was immediate but lasted less than a nanosecond.
“Marshall is loose. He took advantage of a particularly deep roll to overpower the guards who were escorting him below.”
Antila thrust to his feet “Kill them,” he ordered without hesitation.
“Marshall saved us the time. One suffered a broken neck; the other two he shot.”
“Find him, and when you do, throw him overboard. Wait, I will come with you. The men need to know I mean business. I will not tolerate further failure.” He pointed to the remaining guard. “You stay with her. Fail me, and I will have your family hunted down, and they will die a death you would not wish on your worst enemy.”
Anna almost felt sorry for the guard, but she’d made the mistake of allowing that weakness to bite once tonight, and look what kind of animal Antila had turned out to be. She didn’t doubt he would have Nick thrown into the dark, heaving sea. He’d do it himself if he got the chance.
She dug her nails into her palms. If Nick got caught, she’d kill him herself. And the attack-and-extract team had better be as good as he’d promised.
Seconds later, her anger forgotten, she found herself making silent promises to any deity that might be listening. About how she’d change, how she’d make it up to Nick for not fighting hard enough to save their marriage. She pleaded for a chance to show what type of mother she could be, rational, responsible, guiding, protective. She offered up every sacrifice she could think of in exchange for him being safe.
She knew she had a problem when the doctor appeared, panic-stricken and bleeding from a head wound, blood running in rivulets from his temple.
She leaped to her feet to help.
He didn’t get a chance to warn her. Before the words left his semi-open mouth, he pitched face-first onto the rug. In an instant, her guard followed suit, his death mask one of shocked surprise.
Anna backed away from a woman who looked terrifyingly calm. Almost normal, bar for the ugly-looking pistol in her hand. Christ, it was like looking at her own double.
“So you’re the chosen one,” the woman said casually, treating Anna to a slow, considered look, “I can see why. The resemblance between us is quite startling. You look just like me.” Antoinette sighed and appeared to lose herself in a private moment. Then she shrugged. “Or how I used to look, many years ago.” She crossed to the bar and calmly poured herself a drink.
Anna kept her eyes on the gun that Antoinette had set aside. Devil’s Whim rolled. The weapon would have skidded from the wooden bar had the woman not had the reflexes of a cat.
Tiny beads of iced sweat pushed through her skin. Jesus, the woman was quick. Making a run for it was out of the question.
Devil’s Whim reared again. Anna staggered sideways before catching her balance.
“You should sit down,” Antoinette recommended. “My Antila wouldn’t want you to fall. It might damage the baby.” There was no animosity beneath the woman’s words—more an empty boredom, which was infinitely more frightening.
Ignoring the invitation to sit, Anna shifted close to a deep reading chair fixed to the floor and used it to steady herself against the pitch and roll of the boat.
Rain, like gravel blasted, battered the stretch of panoramic windows comprising three sides of the stateroom. The lights flickered. She gripped the chair more tightly.
The woman raised her glass high. “Want one?” she asked, arching her eyebrows.
“Not right now, thank you.” Antoinette Borosky-Antila certainly lived up to her reputation. She was beautiful, in a serene Madonna-like kind of way. But it was all in the eyes. The windows to the woman’s soul seemed remote, disconnected but for an unholy glint.
She determined there and then to keep at least one piece of fixed furniture between them at all times.
Antoinette smiled. “Very responsible of you. Pregnant women shouldn’t drink.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she tossed back a weak smile of her own and stayed silent.
“You look afraid. Tell me, are you scared of the storm, or are you scared of me?”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I think you scare me more.”
Antoinette giggled. “With what’s raging out there, I should be flattered. What have they told you about me?”
Anna shuddered. The innocent little girl laugh didn’t suit the woman. “Nothing. No one speaks about you. As far as I know, few realize you exist.” Oh, God, where the hell was Nick when she needed him?
“Hmm, what’s that expression? Out of sight, out of mind. That’s me.
Courtesy of my family and Antila. Are you wondering why it is I don’t use his given name, Niva? Because he loathes it, like he hates me.” An ugly cloud of anger swept the woman’s face.
Anna’s pulse spiked. Hell, this woman was no Madonna. “I don’t think so. He cares,” she offered, desperate to calm.
“Does he? I think not. He’s ashamed of me. And afraid of my family.” Again, the woman smiled slyly. “And, maybe, even a little afraid of me.”
Anna couldn’t fault Antila for his fear. Everything about Antoinette was off, from the beauty on the outside to the sickness within. From the blatant, sultry sexuality she exuded to the traces of childlike demeanor.
Yet she couldn’t deny Antila’s concern for his wife and didn’t doubt his somehow twisted devotion to her. Maybe the woman would be comforted by that reminder and hook back into some semblance of normality. “I don’t know about your family, but your husband certainly loves you.”
“Does he? Do you know for how many years I’ve been at sea? I was eighteen when we married, and I’m now forty-seven. My voyage started when I was twenty-three, right after our baby boy died. He wouldn’t stop crying. Babies shouldn’t cry. Not all the time, should they?”
“No,” Anna whispered. She didn’t want to think about why the baby had cried “all the time.”
“He blamed me, punished me. Called in doctors to ensure I could never have another child. They hurt me. I don’t call that love.”
A series of muffled thuds rocked the floor beneath her feet. Devil’s Whim shuddered. She slammed down the hatches in her mind on what that might mean, too.
Antoinette cocked her head to listen, “I do believe someone is trying to blow us up.”
The fluttering in her chest settled to a dull thud. Her throat thickened. Iron will alone kept her from covering her ears. She didn’t want to know. Where the hell was Nick?
Apparently unperturbed, Antoinette topped up her already empty glass and tossed back the contents in a single shot.
Anna tracked the movement with her eyes. How much liquor could the woman consume without keeling over? If she’d been medicated, the cocktail might speed up the process. She had a chance.