A Perilous Eden (15 page)

Yet when they had gone through the house, and she was standing outside in the garden, feeling the Jamaican sunshine on her cheeks, she was surprised to feel a curious sensation ripple along her spine. She spun around to find him looking at her from a distance of twenty feet or so.

She didn't speak, but waited for him to do so. He ambled toward her in cutoff jeans and a polo shirt and his dark glasses.

“I didn't know you were on the tour,” she said.

“I wasn't, really. I've been out here.”

“Senator Daldrin?”

“He's still in the house. Where are the Bainbridges?”

“Still inside.”

He nodded.

“Are you watching me?” she asked him.

“At the moment, yes.”

“That's not what I mean.”

“The senator seems to be concerned about you.”

“Has it all been his concern?”

“You know better than that.”

Jim and Josie were coming out of the house. Josie smiled when she saw Michael. “We're going to a hotel for a drink. The one with the pool lagoon. Would you like to come?”

Amber wished she could see his eyes. He shook his head, and she thought there was real regret in his voice. “Sorry. I'm waiting for the senator.”

“Oh, well, feel free to join us later,” Josie said.

Michael nodded. He watched Amber as she followed the pair out to the small car they had rented.

To Amber's surprise, the senator, Michael Adams and several other members of the party did join them later. The bar was in the center of the lagoon, and they had all stripped down to bathing suits to swim over. Then Amber had crawled up on a huge float and drifted beneath the sun. She half closed her eyes and saw the brilliance of the burning orb in the sky, then let her lashes fall completely. When she opened her eyes seconds later, she saw Michael, seated by the pool, sipping something from a pineapple and staring at her. She made no move toward him. Nor did he come near her. He was staying away, she knew, because he wanted it to be her move. Daldrin didn't want them together. Michael wouldn't deny a relationship, but if she wanted to, he would give her the opportunity.

She wasn't sure just what she wanted anymore.

They returned to the ship soon after, since they were due to leave port before dark and head for the Mexican coast. Amber showered and changed quickly, choosing white that night. Her gown was intricately beaded at the bodice but had a flowing skirt that complimented her every movement. When Myra came in to change, Amber chatted for a moment about her day, then left the cabin.

Her heart was beating with a thunderous flutter, and she didn't want to admit it. She didn't want to think about what she was doing. But she headed along the hall to Michael's cabin. When she got to the door she lifted her hand, and a wealth of color flooded her face before she knocked. She was going to his cabin to make love with him, and she couldn't believe how bold she was being.

The door opened. He had showered, too. He was in briefs, with a hint of shaving cream still on his cheeks. His expression seemed grave, regretful again.

And then he pulled her into the cabin. She felt the warmth of his arms enveloping her, and any sense of shame fled quickly.

He disrobed her very carefully that night, then made love to her more intensely, more passionately, than ever before. When they lay entwined together after it was over, he continued to touch her as their bodies cooled slowly in the sea air. Then he swept her into his arms again, holding her tightly. “My God, I'm going to miss you,” he whispered.

A deep chill touched her heart. He had always said that he had nothing to give her. And she had entered their relationship asking for nothing; she still didn't know what she wanted out of life. A month ago she had wanted Peter to cry out his devotion, to swear that he would set a date, would speak seriously about children. But lying here, she couldn't imagine that she wouldn't experience Michael Adams again, with his energy and his vibrance and his passion. She moistened her lips as his head bent low over her breast, as his tongue touched and teased her flesh, tasting her curiously, tenderly.

She had no hold on him. But neither was the cruise anywhere near over.

She wove her fingers through the tawny wealth of his hair. She was about to speak when he leaned over her and spoke bitterly himself. “Damn you, Amber. Damn you. This never should have happened.”

He rose. She was left, bereft and cold and confused, and she suddenly felt very naked. She leaped up, reached for her clothing and dressed quickly, her fingers trembling. He was still knotting his tie when she slipped on her second shoe and headed for the door.

“Amber!”

“What?”

She was reaching for the doorknob and when he slammed the door shut, her temper soared. “Just let—”

His mouth closed over hers. His kiss was hot and passionate and demanding, then achingly sweet, and it seemed to steal all her strength. Then his lips rose just slightly, and she felt his tempest again. His whisper was harsh, yet still his hold upon her was tender. “Damn you, damn you for making me want you.”

Suddenly he wasn't holding her anymore. She turned and fled from the room, hurrying to dinner.

It was a stilted meal. The senator was as tense as Michael. The others drifted away from the table early, until only Michael, the senator and Amber remained. “What are you doing tonight?” the senator asked her.

She arched a brow. “Nothing special. I'll probably walk on deck and maybe visit one of the lounges.”

“Visit the lounge.” Michael's hand was on hers, and he issued the words as an order.

She stared at his bronzed hand. What was it that he was doing tonight? Ah, yes, that all-important poker game. She smiled. “Please don't worry about me. I am well able to find my own entertainment.”

“Yes, I know. But you shouldn't be wandering alone on deck at night. Visit the lounge. Go to bed early.”

Daldrin cleared his throat. “Amber is a grown woman, you know.” Those words sounded like a warning, too. She was losing her mind. She didn't know if the two men liked or hated one another, or why they were being so confusing, so enigmatic. She stood. She didn't know what Michael's problem was this evening, but he had left her feeling more lost and confused than ever. More than anything, she wanted to be alone on deck. She wanted to hear the ocean and see the darkness and stand and let the breeze soothe her.

“I'll see the movie tonight, I think. Thank you, and excuse me.”

She smiled sweetly and walked away. Michael was on his feet, too. She thought for a moment that he was going to follow her, but he didn't Instead he spoke to the senator, then left the dining room by the port door.

Amber hurried outside. The night was beautiful. The darkness, the whisper of the breeze, all closed around her.

Damn you, Michael! she thought.

7

The
Alexandria,
International Waters

June 15, 12:45 a.m
.

H
e was running late. What a fool he was. He should have left things alone; he shouldn't have been so intense; he shouldn't have shouted out orders. There were a million other places on the ship where she might be. There was no reason to worry that Amber might run right into things.

In his cabin, he glanced at his watch. He had learned this morning that the boat would come between twelve-thirty and one o'clock. One nice thing about the senator being in on the plan was that he hadn't needed to play any games. He'd told the man the time and the place, and that had been that. But now he had to plunge into the act, and his concentration was off. It shouldn't be, but it was—and all because of her.

He would miss her.…

Revenge was at hand. He had waited a long, long time to know for certain, and now he did. And there just happened to be something noble that could be achieved, too—freedom for others. For the four military advisers, the two diplomats and the two bankers. And Daldrin and himself. He hoped that Daldrin would come out all right. The man had courage. Very few men would willingly step into the power of the Death Squad.

Adam quickly discarded his dress suit, then zipped up black jeans and pulled a black turtleneck over his head. He tied on black sneakers and flipped up his mattress to find his weapons, sliding his pistol into his waistband and his knife into the sheath at his calf. He took a look around the room, then abandoned it. He wanted to be on deck the moment the assailants arrived just in case something went wrong. He didn't want to take any chances with innocent lives.

He went up to the Bahamas Deck. He could hear loud salsa music pouring out from the lounge as he hurried to the door opening to the forward lifeboat area. He glanced at his watch. It was time.

The second he opened the door, he heard the screams.

Damn! It had all gone to hell, straight to hell. Worse than that.

Amber.

Amber was on the floorboards, and one of Abdul's cutthroats was straddled over her, his knife about to connect with her jugular. Adam raced forward in a blind fury, wrenching the man up and around.

He had forgotten. For a moment he had actually forgotten his role. He had heard her scream, had seen her lying there, had seen the flash of the blade. Nothing else had mattered then, not even revenge. Not even the eight men on the island. Nothing.

The danger was over. He left Amber where she lay and began to rail against her attacker in swift and furious Spanish. He reminded the man that he was in control, that the orders had been no violence on the ship, no bloodshed.

“Michael!” she whispered.

Run! he wanted to shout to her. Run away quickly. I'll stop them.…

“Michael … thank God!” she said. Her eyes were wide, her hair wild, everything about her feminine and trusting. And Abdul's men were laughing and snickering as she pitched herself into his arms.

Damn her. Damn her a thousand times over. She shouldn't have been on deck. He shouldn't feel for her the things that he did, and she shouldn't trust him. He shouldn't be relishing her warmth against him while he desperately wondered how to save her life. And her eyes shouldn't be on him, so beautiful, but wide with dawning horror and reproach and fury.

“No, Amber,” he said softly. “No, I'm sorry. I'm not here to help you.”

“You bastard.”

Her hatred hurt. The depth of his pain was startling, like the twist of a knife. He lowered his face and whispered softly to her, “Damn you, Amber, you should have run, you little fool!”

She wrenched away from him, and this time she did start to run. But he couldn't allow her to get away. The others would kill her, given half a chance. He caught her by the hair and jerked her into his arms. He glared at her warningly, his fingers tightening in her hair.

“She has to be killed,” one of the men began in Spanish.

“No!” His grip grew ever tighter. He needed to hold her still and keep her silent.

“Let me go!” she shrieked.

He clapped a hand down hard over her mouth. “Shut up, Miss Larkspur,” he whispered to her. “Shut up.
Now
. I'm doing my best to save your miserable little interfering life!” His touch was brutal, his words harsh. They had to be. The fellow he had decked for nearly killing her was up and at the railing and looking down. The men who had already taken the senator must surely be wondering what the hell was going on. He switched languages, speaking in Arabic to demonstrate his authority. “Signal that we're coming down, that we're bringing an extra hostage.”

He dared not show his relief when the man obeyed him. He couldn't leave Amber—they wouldn't allow that. He had to take her, there was no other choice. Then he had to hope and pray that he could still pull this whole damn thing off.

If only she had listened to him! If only she hadn't been on deck.

But she had been. And now she was in his arms, and he was going to have to keep her there if he was going to keep her alive. He whispered harshly to Amber. “This is my party, Miss Larkspur. You weren't invited, but you're here.” He slowly eased his hold on her mouth.

She started to scream again. Furious, desperate, he swore. “Damn you!” He clamped his hand tightly over her mouth again. “Stop it!” he hissed. If she screamed again, someone might well stab her, whether he was holding her or not. “Amber, I'll give you one warning—”

She bit him.

He released her and slammed his fist against her jaw.

She slumped into his arms, and he looked at the men. “What the hell are you staring at?” he demanded sharply, reverting to Spanish again. “Let's get going.” He gestured to the strong rope dangling from the rail.

The men crawled down the rope easily, silently. Adam followed with less grace, balancing Amber's weight. When he fell the last few feet to the small motor launch, he tried to break her fall with his body. The small boat pitched and swayed as Adam crawled along the floor to sit on the far aft seat, staring straight ahead. Two of the men flanked Daldrin, who sat in silence between them. The one who had tried to kill Amber stared at Adam, fury in his eyes, but Adam ignored him. A third man was behind him, and the last was gunning the engine, heading into the darkness of the night.

Twenty minutes later, in the midst of an inky eternity, they came upon a cabin cruiser. It was small compared with the
Alexandria
, but big and beautiful compared with others of its classification. It was a good sixty-five feet long, Adam was certain.

The launch pulled up alongside the cruiser, where Ali Abdul, still in his desert robes despite the humidity of the tropics, waited on deck as the ladder was lowered.

“What's this?” he demanded when he saw Adam.

“A woman. She was on deck.”

“You should have thrown her over the rail,” someone advised sharply. It was Khazar, coming from behind his father. He stared down dispassionately at Adam's feminine burden.