She looked around and he pointed at a canister in the cabinet he’d opened, offering helpfully, “It takes coffee grounds.”
With a sardonic look, she said, “I know that.” Once she had unsealed the lid, though, she looked into the dark granules as if trying to decipher the next step.
“Just use a spoon.” He wanted to put her out of her misery.
“A spoon. Of course, which are, ah…”
As she rooted around, he asked, “Have you really never been in here?”
“Why would I?” she snapped back defensively. “We have cooks and stewards and things for that. But since I’m dying to prove my worth as your new toy, I’d be happy to wait on you and your fellow cutthroats if it’ll get me some points for good behavior.”
He wrapped his hands around her waist, taking her off guard, saying loudly, “The only points you need to earn are in bed, babe.” And his hand went up to feel her boob as he whispered in her ear, “Careful, we have company.”
He had caught sight of a shadow in the entrance to the galley just in time. She stiffened, but at his words, reached one arm around to his neck, replying brightly, “That’s where I like to be on my best behavior.”
He gave a noisy kiss to her neck and smacked her on the ass. “Go on. I need some caffeine. Man can’t live by fucking alone, gorgeous.”
“Too bad.” She shot him a sultry smile, which, even though he knew she was playacting, hit him hard. She was getting sort of good at this.
“Vik.” It wasn’t Santiago back, but one of the other men, Nguyen.
Speaking in Vietnamese, Nguyen asked him if the girl had been worth it.
“Yeah,” Vik responded in English, pretty much meaning it too.
Santiago tried the cabin door. They hadn’t left it locked. That was reassuring at least. Maybe they did have nothing to hide. Before he made contact with Visto, though, he wanted to make sure he had nothing more to tell them than that Vik had killed Gunny in a knife fight over a girl they’d taken from the boat. That was a simple story. But something about the whole thing, the girl’s skittishness the night before and her self-satisfied air this morning, rubbed him the wrong way. He wanted to confirm the story wasn’t something more complicated. What he didn’t know. But checking the cabin they’d spent the night in was a good start.
He surveyed the suite, the cool blue walls and that huge flatscreen. Nice. The room he’d had last night was cool, but this was obviously the princess’s pad. The bed was unmade and looked slept in, on both sides. He leaned down and smelled the sheets, taking a deep whiff.
Sex. There was no mistaking that sweet smell. He rummaged in the wastebasket near the bed and confirmed it. Several spent condoms, knotted at the end to keep in Vik’s wad.
Okay. Just a quick glance around to make sure nothing else was out of place and he was ready to send an email to the men who ran the operation to let them know how close the yacht was to Visto. Oh, and about what had happened to Gunny.
Not that they’d care about that part.
By the time Samantha had managed to get the coffeepot going, he broke the bad news to her that she was making breakfast for everybody too. Maybe it was because Nguyen was still standing there watching her, but she took the news pretty well, rummaging around in the Sub-Zero refrigerator for a crate of eggs and placing them next to the Viking stove.
Vik wasn’t the type who liked to see comedies when he watched a movie. He didn’t find a hell of a lot in life to be funny. And when it came to women, he wouldn’t exactly have listed amusing as one of his top qualifications.
But there was something damn appealing about watching this little rich girl fumble around in the kitchen, trying to make up for a lifetime so pampered she apparently didn’t know how to crack an egg. Standing over the skillet that he’d already magnanimously put the butter in since she probably didn’t have a clue that something nonstick was required, she tapped the egg on the edge once and then waited, as if there might be some delayed reaction time involved. When nothing happened, she tried again, a little harder. The third try took half the shell into the pan with it, but she beamed at him. “See? There you go.”
Then she watched it as it sizzled.
“You need a spatula.”
She bit her lip.
“You know, a spatula. That flippy thing.” He gestured with his wrist.
“Oh yes, of course.”
He didn’t know where the spatula was any more than she did, but he guessed his chances of finding it, not to mention recognizing it, were probably better than hers. Opening drawers, he located one and handed it to her.
By the time she peeled the egg off the bottom of the pan and flipped it over, the smoke alarm was going off.
She ignored it and he reached up to push the button that would make the sound stop while she slid, or rather scraped, the egg out of the pan and onto a plate that he had set out for it.
Her smile as she held it out to him was sweet. And genuine. It did something to him, maybe even more than when she had smiled at him during her seduction last night.
“I did it.”
He smiled back, unable to help himself, and reached for a fork. What the hell. He’d eaten a lot worse than egg shells in his day.
“Delicious,” he lied.
Later, after Vik had forced several of the other crew members to eat Samantha’s inedible eggs—and to shut up about it too—they took a walk around the deck. Samantha managed to let no more than a few inches pass between their bodies at all times. She may have found her own measure of power bewitching him in bed last night, but it looked as if she felt the balance distinctly shifting out here.
Vik observed the other members of the crew. They eyed her, but made no overt moves. It wouldn’t be long now, one way or the other.
Making his way along the railing, he stopped abruptly and Samantha almost bumped into him.
“Chill out,” he said quietly. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you just relax out here for a while? Take a lounger there and read or listen to music or do whatever it is you do.”
She eyed him tentatively. “Where will you be?”
He stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb. “Why? Will you miss me?”
She looked around. Two of the guys were dipping their bare feet in the hot tub, beers in hand despite that it was barely noon. Gunderson always had a crew of at least seven or eight on hand when they hijacked a yacht, big, tough sons of bitches ready for anything. But often they weren’t needed and just hung around waiting to collect their take. That was a dangerous situation with a gorgeous girl around.
“Go down and watch some T.V. or something,” he called out to them.
He couldn’t hear their mutters in response, but at least they got up and made themselves scarce.
“There,” he told her. “All clear now.”
She nodded.
“I’m going to go find Santiago.”
“Couldn’t I come with you?”
He sighed. “No, but maybe you should go back down to the cabin.”
“No, please, never mind. I don’t want to be locked up in there. I’m okay. I’ll be okay out here.” She wandered over to the lounger, stretching out on it.
He watched her. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back. And if anybody bothers you in the meantime, scream your head off. I’ll hear it.”
She nodded.
The truth was he needed to talk to Santiago and he didn’t want her around. But he was second-guessing himself on whether it was safe to leave her.
Hell, though. He was supposed to have a mission here. He could hold off babysitting her for five minutes.
The deck was empty. The lounger was soft and luxurious. The sun was hot. But she just wasn’t the same person. She couldn’t lie down and sunbathe as if she was, as if nothing had happened.
Besides, she wasn’t even in a bathing suit—not that she would wear one with these animals around—and she hadn’t any sunscreen o
n. She’d burn to a crisp if she stayed out in this heat for more than a few minutes. When she put a palm up to her hot face, she realized she hadn’t even moisturized this morning or put on any makeup. Perversely, the thought struck her as hilarious and she laughed, startled by the sound and abruptly stifling it. She got up from the lounger and wandered down the deck, intending to go below after all. But when she passed the wheelhouse, she saw it was empty.
She glanced to either side of her and then slipped in. She might not know how to work a coffeemaker or cook an egg, but computers in any form, including those devoted to communications technology, had always fascinated her. Her father probably had never known it, but there had been more than one sleepless night as a little girl on this yacht spent in the wheel room taking apart the computerized radio to see how it functioned and then surreptitiously putting it back together again. She’d graduated of course to more sophisticated computer play, such as hacking into Yale’s grading database, but she still remembered the basics of the apparatus that ran this ship’s radio and computer links to shore.
A quick inventory of the control panel and a couple of diagnostic clicks showed her that the wireless for the yacht had been disengaged. She could flip it back on easily, but any message she might send would leave a trail she would need some time to eradicate and she didn’t want to risk getting caught doing it. The radio was a much easier bet.
Perhaps she could contact Michael and he could send a search party out for her father and then—
“Hey, Chica.”
She whipped around. It was Santiago.
“What are you doing in here?”
She swallowed. “I…I was looking for a hat.”
He looked around in an exaggerated fashion. “I don’t see no hat around here.”
“I’ll just go back down and—”
She made to move past him and he caught her arm. She remembered the painful, clammy grip from when he’d held her back during the knife fight. She hadn’t struggled then, but she sure as hell did now. “Let go of me.”
“Your old man tired of you already?”
He wasn’t as big as Vik, but he was wiry and, judging from his grip, strong as well. She couldn’t break free as he used his grip to yank her closer.
“You maybe think you going to call somebody to pick you up, baby? That what you doing in here?”
“Let her go.”
The calm instruction was welcome, but could have had a little more teeth in it as far as Samantha was concerned. Vik stood in the entry to the wheel room, his arms folded across his broad chest, his legs slightly spread in a dominant stance. But he didn’t stride in and break her free of Santiago’s hold. Or punch the guy in the nose. Or something.
Santiago obligingly let her go anyway and she wrenched her arm back, rubbing what she knew was going to be a welt.
“Brute,” she muttered.
“Your chick here was just strolling in like she was going to make a call on the radio or something. Ain’t you watching her? Christ, who the fuck knows who she would have called?”
“I told you she’s mine. You stay away from her.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think that counted when she was calling the cops or whatever the fuck she was doing.”
“I wasn’t calling anybody. I just…I just…” God, she was bad at pretending. Her mind was blank. She could not think of a single legitimate excuse to be in here, and in addition, she was confused as to whether she was lying to just Santiago or to Santiago and Vik both.
Vik wasn’t staring at her, though. Only at his fellow crew member. “I told you, you touch her, you die.”
Suddenly, she didn’t need anybody punching anybody’s nose, especially since with this group they seemed to bypass the intermediate quarrel steps and move right to the corpse stage.
“I’m fine, Vik,” she added hastily. “Really.”
Vik had killed in the line of duty. Lots of times. He didn’t resort to it lightly and he didn’t enjoy it. And he had never, ever done it in blinding anger. In fact, his ability to do it so coolly was sometimes worrisome to him. Until now. Now he thought he could fucking kill Santiago for touching Samantha and relish every second of it—and that was truly worrisome.
Her cool touch on his arm held him back. He met her dark brown eyes and read them accurately. She was terrified he was going to kill in her honor again. He took a deep breath. Good thing somebody around here still had some reverence for human life. He slipped his arm around her waist and turned back to Santiago.
“Fine. I’ll let it go for now. But you lay one finger on her again and I’ll make what happened to Gunderson look like fun.”
Santiago’s hand moved almost imperceptibly toward his knife holster before it froze and then came back to hang limply at his side. Santiago couldn’t beat him in a knife fight. They both knew it. He made the wise choice of not even trying.
“I was looking for you anyway,” Vik said casually. “I think you ought to tell me the coordinates for Visto. It’s dangerous having there be just one on board who knows.”
Santiago no doubt knew it was even more dangerous for him to give Vik the coordinates. “You know the rules, man. I can’t do that. I’m a dead man if I do.”
“How’re they going to know?”
It was a reasonable question and Santiago’s immediate answer worried him. “They’d know.”
Was it possible Santiago was in contact with Visto already? Was that part of the key to getting in the super-secret harbor?
“Once we’re in, they’ll make the decision as to whether you should know the location, Vik. Not me. You know that. Gunderson was clear about that. It’s only the fact you been with us so long and done okay that Gunny even decided to bring you along this time.”
That had never made a hell of a lot of sense to Vik. Any seaman worth his salt would know where it was once he’d made port there. There must be something he was missing.
“And the rest of the crew?”
“Like Gunny told you, somebody’ll board us when we’re at a certain point and give them their share and a boat to get back to the nearest land. Then Gunny got the okay to keep you on board while we take it in to Visto. Some folks want to meet you. And now Gunny’s dead, they want to meet you even more.”
The way Santiago said it gave him pause. Like Visto already knew Gunny was dead.
Vik glanced at Samantha. He’d have the rest of this conversation without her standing there shivering beside him.
“Jesus, it’s ninety degrees out here, Chica,” Santiago said. “Why you look so cold?”
“None of your fucking business,” Vik responded. “Come on,” he told her. “We’re going below now.”
As they left the wheelhouse, Santiago called, “Give her a spanking for me, Vik. She was a bad girl for checking out the radio. You know she was!”
Chapter Five
Vik slammed the cabin door shut behind them. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“Nothing. I just—”
“Did you think because we slept together that somehow you’re on some pleasure cruise now? Those men are criminals. Dangerous.”
“Those men,” she probably unwisely taunted, though she kept her voice as quiet as he did. “Just what makes you think you’re any better than they are? You’re a thief too, aren’t you? You’re dangerous too, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am dangerous and right now I should give you a spanking.”
She let that pass. She’d never had a spanking in her life.
“Getting caught near the radio could have had disastrous consequences if I hadn’t shown up when I did.”
“What disastrous consequences? I could’ve gotten a plea for help out?”
“No. You could have gotten your throat slit by Santiago if he’d caught you doing it, instead of just suspecting you were about to.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you get a message out?” he asked, almost as if he was disinterested in the answer.
“Why? Are
you afraid my brother might find out what’s happened and send someone to rescue me and my poor father who’s probably running out of water out there on that damn raft?”
“I’m sure your brother already knows,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Never mind. Listen, don’t try any more theatrical moves to rescue yourself. Just sit tight and let me protect you and probably your rescuers are on their way right now as we speak.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
He didn’t answer, wandering over to the sink and rinsing his face.
“And anyway,” she murmured, “maybe I want to rescue myself for a change instead of just waiting around for somebody else to do it.”
He patted his face dry with a towel and then flung it across the room. “Don’t make my job any harder than you already have, Samantha.”
“Your job?”
“I’m going up top and you’re staying right here and locking the door behind me. Got it?”
She nodded. When he’d gone and she’d locked the door, she knelt down next to the bed. The wheelhouse room had reminded her of something she had temporarily forgotten and since this was almost the first time Vik had left her alone in the cabin, she had a chance to take advantage of it.
“Theatrical moves to rescue myself,” she muttered as she extracted the small laptop from a hidden compartment covered by a floorboard under the bed. Her father had confiscated her main computer and thrown it overboard as soon as they got there. Talk about theatrical. But Samantha had a spare one he didn’t know about, one she had planned to pull out at some point and use to send an email to Justin. Right now, though, it could be put to much more important use. She flicked it on and it sprang to life.
The pirates had disarmed the wireless it appeared, as she’d seen before Santiago came in, but they didn’t reckon on having a self-taught computer expert in their midst. She hadn’t been able to counteract the disarming in the wheelhouse because she didn’t have the time, but she had an idea as to how she could do it from her laptop. With the way Vik had stormed out of here, and add to that the fact she’d said there’d be no more sex, and she figured she had a lot of time before he came back to the cabin.
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