Bermuda Nights - The Boxed Set (12 page)

Her voice grumbled out from the thick white pillow. “Gotta find Sven. Tell him I’m ok. He’s in room 222.”

“He’s the one who left you,” I pointed out, brushing her hair back. “We can tell him in the morning.”

“Gotta tell him,” she insisted. “222. Gotta … Scmotta …” her pleas faded into incomprehensibility. In a moment she was snoring with the power of a force five hurricane.

I sat on my bed, the initial stress of getting Kayla safely home fading under the room-shattering snores. Twists of emotion wrenched through me with each shuddering inhale and exhale, as the vision of Evan in the woman’s grasp flared into vivid life. Had that been heated interest in his eyes? He’d refused to make love to me in the massage room. Had it been because he was saving himself for another woman? He’d already been preparing to move on?

Kayla’s next snore tore my eardrums into tattered remnants.

I couldn’t take it any more.

I stood and left the room, striding down the hallway to the stairwell.

I stopped there, staring at the two flights, one going up, the other down. I knew I should head up to the decks, to find a lounge chair to sprawl on for an hour or two, until I was so exhausted that I would fall asleep immediately despite Kayla’s furious wind tunnel effect. I should go up to the theater, or by the pool, or maybe even to the library, so I could …

My feet began their descent.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I moved down to the crew deck. I’d never been to this part of the ship. I didn’t belong here. And Evan had asked me to stay away. But I had to know. Maybe I’d been mistaken about what I’d seen. Surely nobody would see me down here at this hour of the morning. I’d just check in, let Sven know she was all right, get reassurance from Evan, and then head back to my room. Kayla would be happy. I’d be happy. The world would resume spinning in its proper orbit.

Music echoed from the hall before me; one of the doors was open a crack. The lyrics blasted out in hard-edged rhythm, one I knew well.
Life in the Fast Lane.

I chuckled as I approached the door. Apparently the band was taking their bachelor living seriously. There was the tail end of a bathrobe’s belt trailing out of the doorway, and that’s what the door had caught on. Looking in the thin gap, I could see dirty socks, crumpled magazines, stained t-shirts, plates of half-eaten food, and piles of items too mixed to name. There were a pair of bunk beds on each side. A black speaker amp stood in the center of the room as a makeshift table, with a square of glass on top serving as its counter.

I could see the two left-hand bunks more clearly from my angle. Tom, his bald head shining in the cabin’s lights, had a pair of drumsticks in his hand and was rapping the wall in time with the music. I gave a silent prayer to whoever it was who had the room next to theirs. Either they worked the night shift, or they had the patience of a saint. Above Tom, Hank was stretched out on the upper bunk, his gaze locked on the TV screen. He spoke to the other side of the room. “We’ve got some rain coming in, but it looks like perfect weather for next weekend.”

Sven stepped into the center of the room from the right, carrying a wrapped package the size of a loaf of bread. He set it down onto the glass counter. “Excellent. We’ve only got that one final run between Boston and Bermuda, and then we do our repositioning cruise down to New Orleans. So we want to make these count.”

I blinked. I should have remembered that, of course, but in all the excitement I hadn’t even given it thought. I’d assumed, foolishly of course, that Evan would be coming back and forth to Boston until he finished his tour. But he wouldn’t. Cold weather was about to set in, and the ship would be heading south for the winter, just like the Canada geese and hummingbirds.

The thought of him being even further away from me sent a chill through my soul.

Tom did a roll with the drumsticks. “Two weeks. Is that enough time to hook Kayla?”

My brow creased in confusion.

Sven pulled a knife from his back pocket and popped it open. He cut a line down the top of the package and slid the knife into it, coming out with a white powder.

My heart stopped.

Sven eyed the powder with a practiced eye. “Yeah, I’ve almost got her on board. Hell, the fool girl was talking about signing on, so she could bartend on ship while we did our southern run!” He laughed. “But I convinced her that it’s better if she stays put in Boston.”

He grinned over at Tom. “God, the connections she has. She has politicians, bankers, you name it, all coming and going out of that bar of hers.” His eyes lit up. “But, best of all, she’s got a number of school administrators and teachers. Once we turn her, she can hook in with a few of them. Think of the potential. If we can get into a school, the sky’s the limit.”

I leaned against the door frame. I could not take it in. One thought rang through my head, like a claxon bell sounding out an alarm. I had to find Evan, to warn him. He would know what to do. He would know who to tell, so we could shut these criminals down, stop them before they could –

Sven put his knife down on top of the package. “Looks like good stuff. Bring over the gear, and let’s give it a try.”

There was a soft clattering noise.

Evan stepped into the middle of the room, carrying needles, rubber strips, and a few other items I couldn’t make out, because suddenly my eyes were streaming tears.

My breath came out of me in a soft cry.

Evan’s eyes flicked up in surprise.

For a single, heart-wrenching moment, our gazes locked.

I fled.

Chapter 11

I was freezing cold, soaked to the bone, curled up in a tiny ball, and hard metal pressed in on me from two sides.

I tried to blink my eyes awake, but they were glued shut. My arms were too sore to move, so it took a while before I could gather the strength to pry my lids apart, to make sense of what had happened.

Heavy droplets of rain were pounding down all around me, pummeling the deck of the ship. The thick, grey clouds were softly glowing, so it wasn’t night, but I was hard pressed to determine what time of day it was. I was in amongst some sort of machinery, on an upper deck of the ship, judging from my elevated view of the shoreline.

I wearily pushed myself to sitting. I was tucked in beneath something to do with the smokestack, for I saw now that it towered high above me. My mouth tasted sour, and snippets from last night trickled into my awareness.

Blink.

I was racing along the deck in the dark, fleeing as if the very hounds of hell were at my heels.

Blink.

I was tucked in a doorway as the heavens burst loose, drenching the world in a steady curtain of rain.

Blink.

I was staggered on my knees near the jogging track, retching out anything I had eaten for the entire voyage. The deluge washed it all away, removed any trace, as if it had never existed.

Blink.

I was back at the beginning again, standing at the cabin door, caught in Evan’s gaze …

The tears came again, streaming down my face, an echo of the world around me. A distant part of me wondered that I had any tears left. Somehow I was both wrung dry and also soaked to the bone. Shivers wracked me, and I wrapped my arms tighter around my body.

I couldn’t go back to my room. What if Evan was there? What if he wasn’t, and Kayla was awake? What could I tell her? How could I explain any of this, when even my own mind refused to make sense of it?

It just couldn’t be true. There was no way. My mind simply refused to connect the pieces, as if a European style plug was trying to jam into an American receptacle. They didn’t fit. There was no way to make these two scenes meld together.

But I had seen it with my own eyes. Which meant that everything that had come before was a lie.

A low moan shook from me, and from some inner depth fresh tears were found, were brought forth and presented as offerings to the gods of capriciousness.

I had been used.

There were footsteps, a shadow rounded the corner, and a long, low groan staggered out of Evan. He dropped to one knee in relief, his face haggard, lined with worry and exhaustion. “Jesus Christ, Amanda. There you are. I’ve searched every square inch of this ship for you. I thought -” He bit off the words, his throat going tight.

He reached out a hand for me.

I flinched, pulling back into my corner, wrapping my arms tighter around my knees.

His face tensed, and he turned his hand palm up in a gesture of supplication. “Please, Amanda, let me –”

My voice was sharp, unnatural to my own ears. “Don’t touch me.”

His eyes drew down me in concern. “God, Amanda, you are freezing.” He stood and used his card on the door to one side of me, pushing it open. He propped it with his foot while he reached down with both hands, hooking them under my arms. I wanted to resist, to fight him off, but waves of warmth came from the noisy machine room within, and deep longing billowed within me, craving that heat. I allowed him to carry me in, to set me down onto a chair which sat before a small console. A large open space at the center of the room could easily have held my cabin within it. All around the edges were tubes and levers, and a steady thrum resonated within the room.

It was warm. Soul-baskingly warm.

I groaned. I hadn’t realized just how tightly every muscle in my body had been clenched until they began to carefully, slowly unfurl.

He looked down at me, running a hand through his thick hair. For some reason the motion made me think of that woman in the bar, and my heart crystalized, turned to ice.

His jaw was tight. “Amanda, if you let me –”

My voice shot from me, harder and more forceful than I knew was possible. “I’m reporting all of you to the local police.”

His gaze shadowed. “Please, I can –”

I could feel the steel sliding down my spine, strengthening me. “We haven’t left land yet. There’s still time. I’ll get to the station and tell them exactly what I know. They will round you all up and stick you in some hell hole for the rest of your lives.”

His hand reached for my arm and I shook him off, my eyes shooting daggers into him. “Don’t you touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again.”

I staggered to my feet, and for a long moment it seemed my legs wouldn’t hold me. Then, at last, they stabilized enough to keep me upright. I leaned against the wall, taking one step toward the door, then two. My hand went to the metal handle.

Evan’s hand rested on top of mine, gently, delicately, the touch of a mother robin’s wing sweeping over the fragile blue eggs of her children. His voice was low and rich with emotion. “Amanda, please wait.”

I stared at his hand as if it were a viper’s head. “Nothing you could say will make me change my mind.”

His breath eased out of him, and tension sung in every muscle in his body. He gazed into my eyes as if it were the last sight he would ever see.

And then he spoke.

“Amanda -”

I turned the handle.

The door burst in on me, knocking me back, and I sprawled on the metal floor. Jeff strode in, his eyes sweeping from Evan down to me with sharp fury. He called back over his shoulder. “You were right, Mikey. We’ve got them now.”

There was a movement behind him. Five large men filled the doorway, creating an impenetrable barrier between us and the safety of the world beyond.

Jeff slipped his hand into his back pocket, coming out with a set of brass knuckles. He slowly settled them on his right hand. His eyes pinned me like a bully’s knife deliberately spearing a butterfly to a wooden fence. “You watch this good, Mandy,” he ordered. “You watch your playmate get pummeled into red jelly. Because, once he’s dumped on shore, and our ship leaves dock in four hours, it’ll just be you and me the whole cruise home.”