Friction (13 page)

“I’ll throw myself overboard to the sharks before I’ll stay here with you!”

“That can be arranged as well. But not yet.”

He let her go roughly and hit a button on a panel near the table, never taking his eyes off of her. Sarah gulped huge breaths he would no doubt read as fear, but it was really her need to control herself and her anger so as not to rip him limb from limb.

He’d threatened to kill her, if necessary. Is that what had happened to Logan’s partner? She was a cop, too—a tough woman who would never have given in easily to something like this. She listened to him call someone, and a moment later the yeoman stepped through the door.

“Take her to the lower stateroom. Make sure she doesn’t get out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I won’t go! Get your hands off of me!” She kicked out at the yeoman and was rewarded with a fist to the gut, knocking the wind out of her. Valente nodded approvingly.

“Yes, don’t bruise her. Visibly.”

Sarah muttered more curses and let the yeoman drag her from the room, catching her breath as she went and
hiding a slight smile. Now she really had the bastard exactly where she wanted him.

“C
AN YOU GUYS HEAR ME
? Send me a feedback signal so I know you’re out there.”

Sarah sighed with deep relief when the answering sound of a whining pitch made her wince. She wasn’t cut off. Locked in a room and lying on the small bed, she hid her head behind a pillow, appearing to sleep while whispering into the mike still secured around her neck.

The room was actually very comfortable—she’d thought they might throw her down in the engine room, or whatever the equivalent of a basement was on a boat. Now that she knew Ian and E.J. could hear her, she started formulating a plan.

“Okay, I’m going to need Logan on this one—you guys need to find a way to contact him here and let him know where I am, what’s going on. I’m going to see what they do with me later—I’m betting they won’t take me up where all the other clients are and risk me making a fuss, so I imagine whatever plans they have for me, they’ll be doing something private.”

She grinned for a moment, imagining Ian’s frustration at only being able to listen and not talk—he must be going crazy, and the thought tickled her a little. This is what he got for sending her on vacation. But she was in the driver’s seat now, and she was going to make it count.

“I know we have enough to bust them on now, but don’t you dare send the cavalry in just yet, Ian. I mean it. I want to nail this guy in a big way—we need to
find the missing women Logan mentioned. They could be on the boat, or we could at least find out where they are. We need to get access to their computers….”

Her mind started clicking away as she mumbled into the mike, telling them what she needed and what she was planning to do. Her heart beat a little harder in anticipation of snagging Valente and uncovering the full extent of his activities. As long as Logan came through, they’d be all set.

L
OGAN STARED OUT
the aft window. Everything in his life felt frustratingly out of his control—the investigation, his emotional responses toward Sarah, his job.

He’d been awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning due to stifled desire for Sarah. He could work with women cops, stand beside them on the front lines as he had with Mel, but he didn’t know if he could be in love with one. As if he seemed to have any choice in that matter, either.

Sarah hadn’t come up yet. He glanced at his watch, worrying. If she didn’t show soon, he’d go after her, whether she liked it or not. They would only be on the ship for another twelve hours or so—they were heading back to land that evening. He only had one shot at helping Mel, and he had to take it soon. After he left this ship, there was a chance he’d never know what had happened to her. His jaw hardened at the unacceptable thought.

He turned toward the stairs to go find Sarah, and
nearly slammed into a member of the staff who stood before him, handing him a small envelope.

“Telegram for you, sir.”

“Are you sure you have the right person?” Who would be sending him anything?

“You are Mr. K. MacKenzie?”

He took the telegram, frowning. No one else knew about his alias except…he took a deep breath, realizing.

“That’s me. Thanks.”

He tore open the small envelope and tried to decipher what the heck was on the inside. The name Ian Chandler stopped him in his tracks—Sarah’s boss. His breath came up short, realizing that Sarah must be in trouble.

Logan looked around. Much like with airplanes, cell phones weren’t allowed on board because of terrorist threats, and the only phones were in staff offices and on the bridge. He had to get to one, fast. He looked around for the young woman who had delivered the message and approached her, smiling as charmingly as he could manage.

“Ms. Simpson—” he spotted her name tag just in time “—I have some urgent business to attend to. I wonder if you could show me to a telephone?”

She looked up into his face. “Ship-to-shore calls are very expensive—your account would have to be directly billed.”

“Of course. But this telegram is about a problem that must be settled this morning.”

“Of course, sir.”

That was easy. He was led down the stairs to a narrow hall where doors seemed more compact—staff quarters and offices, probably. She led him into the small, crowded office and he tried not to pounce on the telephone too eagerly.

“I should just be a few minutes, I think.”

“We can’t leave any offices unattended, sir, for security reasons. I’ll have to stay in the room.”

Logan flatted his mouth disapprovingly, but nodded. It would cause less suspicion this way, anyhow.

“Fine. Glad to know you run a tight ship.”

He dialed the number, and waited as the slow connection made its way through. The line was somewhat fuzzy with static, but relief overcame him when someone picked up on the other end.

“Ian?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Karl. What’ve ya got?” He assumed a casual familiarity with the stranger on the other end of the phone—it wouldn’t exactly be convincing that he had urgent business with someone he didn’t even know.

“Logan, are you alone?”

“No.”

“Okay, then just listen. We’ve tested this line, we’re
scrambling, but I’m going to make this quick. Sarah is locked in a cabin in the lower stern—they’re holding her there. She’s okay, and we’re keeping track of her. We need your help, though.”

“Sure. Tell me what you need to make this happen.”

“We need to do two things—get Sarah out of there safely, and get into their computers before we send in the Coast Guard. They’ll wipe their systems if they suspect anything or know they are being boarded, so we need to get into their network first and download as much as we can before we raid.”

“What’s my part in all this?” Logan looked up and saw the staff member leaning by the door, looking at her fingernails while he spoke. She didn’t seem to have any particular interest in his conversation. Good.

“We’re going to make a drop later this morning—we have someone on the way now. The Coast Guard is going to pass by, do a routine check. The cruise lines expect this, so it won’t be suspicious. They’ll send out a diver who’ll leave a small package attached to the stern. In that package you’ll find a receiver, so you can communicate with us, and a small computer card.”

Ian took a breath, then continued. “Here’s the hard part. You need to get that card attached to one of their main computers—Sarah said she saw one in the room they took her to this morning, Valente’s cabin. Just slip the card in the slot on the side or in the back of the computer tower and leave. Then we’ll locate Sarah, and you can get her out. When they’re being raided, they won’t
hesitate to get rid of her, or any other witnesses. You need to get to them beforehand. Got it?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in contact.”

He hung up, shaking his head. He’d felt as though he’d stepped through the looking glass as soon as he’d arrived at the inn, and things had only gotten crazier. All these secret transmissions, coded messages and things being attached to the sides of boats. In his other life, police work was never this complicated. It was a lot of footwork and a lot of paperwork, and he did his best not to get shot. All this James Bond stuff was unfamiliar, but if it worked, it was fine by him.

They had Sarah, and while the thought made him sick, he had to cool down and trust that she was okay, that she could handle herself. Chandler had a trace on her, and they had backup waiting, so all he had to do was get the card in the computer and get her, and whoever else was being held—maybe Melanie—out.

That’s all.

He walked through the gaming room, trolling the tables as if deciding which game to play, figuring out his next move. There wasn’t much he could do until he had that card in his hand. Anticipation of seeing the Coast Guard vessel draw alongside buzzed through his bloodstream, but he saw nothing on the water just yet. He glanced at his watch unobtrusively, returning to the craps table to watch the early rollers.

He realized that the resentment he’d felt at having control over the investigation taken away from him had suddenly evaporated. The short conversation with Ian
replayed in his head. Logan had thought he wanted to go it alone, but he had to admit it was good to be part of a team again, ad hoc as it might be. It was a feeling he’d missed since he’d lost Mel and been on the outs with his own department.

And whatever it took, he was going to make sure he didn’t let Sarah down. Regardless of what the future did or didn’t hold for them.

S
ARAH WAS LYING
silently on the bed when Valente walked in, eyeing her with displeasure.

“You should be dressed and ready by now.”

She continued to stare at the ceiling. “I told you, I’m not going to do it. I don’t care what you do with the tapes.”

He opened the door again, and whispered something. Out of the corner of her eye she saw more movement, and a large man came in behind Valente. He had a gun. A large gun.

Sarah didn’t move until Valente grabbed a fistful of her short hair and yanked her up. She bit back a whimper at the stinging pain, glaring at him. Bastard.

“You will shower, you will dress in the clothes I have provided, you will make yourself beautiful and do everything you are told without argument, or Lex here will have some fun with you. Before he kills you.” He tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Are we clear?”

“Very.”

He smiled. “Good.” Then he removed his hand from her hair, moving it to her throat. He ran his finger under the chain of the choker, grimacing. “This is cheap. You
can’t be seen in this.” With a sharp pull he ripped the choker from her throat and she grabbed for it.

“That’s mine. It has…sentimental value.”

Valente dropped it to the floor, stepped on it, and smiled widely at the crunching sound under his heel.

“Be thankful it was the necklace and not your neck.”

With that he left the room. Sarah looked Lex the gorilla in the eye, wondering if she could take him. Probably only if she could get his gun away from him. He let his eyes wander down her body lasciviously. Snatching up the clothes, she locked herself in the bathroom.

Without the choker she was truly on her own. If they took her somewhere else, or threw her overboard, no one would know. Hopefully Ian and E.J. had contacted Logan, and they were on it.

Help would be on the way soon, she reassured herself as she stripped, self-conscious even though she was alone in the shower stall. She hoped she could stay alive and unharmed until it arrived.

L
OGAN WAS
going broke as he ordered another whiskey from the bar while he crapped out yet again at the table. The guy next to him slapped him on the back in condolence before he left with a woman who’d only spared Logan a look that said “loser.” Well, it was the image he was working to project.

Good. As he took a sip of the whiskey, then covertly emptied the rest into the plant that sat next to him at the table, he figured his plan was working. The Coast Guard vessel had shown up, run alongside and done a visual
inspection from their ship—while a diver left the computer card. Logan had surreptitiously retrieved it while taking a break from his losing streak. Now it was time to try to get into Valente’s office.

Pretending to down the drink, he slammed the glass back down and set both hands on the table, snarling at the stickman.

“I’ve never lost this much in my life. This game is rigged!” He raised his voice, slurring his words just a little. The man by the side of the table looked offended and raised his eyebrows.

“I want my chips back! This guy should be replaced. This table is a rip-off.”

Logan wasn’t surprised when a very large man in a dark suit appeared by his side.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

Logan turned and faced the security guy, practically nose to nose.

“Yes, there’s a problem. Cheating is a problem.”

“I can assure you there is no cheating on this boat. Maybe you should let me see you back to your room.”

The man grabbed his shoulder in an iron grip, but Logan had no problem shaking him off. He could probably take the guy, but his real goal was to grab the attention of the big guns, and if he had to take a punch to do it, he was up for that.

“Get your hands off me, flunky. I want to talk to the owner of this cruise. I want to talk to the captain!”

“Sir, you need to quiet down….” The ape’s voice had taken on a more threatening timbre now, and Logan
saw his real opportunity. He pushed out, shoving the guard back.

“I will not be quiet. I demand to see the owner. I am not going to deal with some—”

Someone slid between them, narrowly saving Logan from a black eye or worse. He confronted a man of about his own height, though of a slighter build, in a very expensive suit.

“I’m Vincent Valente, the owner. You have a complaint, sir?”

Logan huffed out a breath, giving the man the full effect of what whiskey he’d sipped. He watched him grimace in distaste, and did it again before he spoke.

“You’re the owner?”

“Yes, I am. I overheard you wanted to talk with me?”

“Yes, I do. I keep losing at this table—I think it’s rigged. I want proof this table is not rigged.”

Valente slid a look to the side as some other customers approached the table and then discreetly walked away. Returning his hard gaze to Logan, he tried to appear friendly. Logan could see he was anything but.

“Well, why don’t we go back to my cabin where we can find a resolution to this issue?”

Logan smiled a drunken smile and grabbed Valente’s hand, shaking it hard. “That would be very good, yes, very good. I knew if I could just talk with someone in charge, things would work out.”

They hurried him out of the room, Valente making chitchat along the way. Everything seemed pleasant and
professional enough—maybe too much so, Logan thought uneasily as they approached a door at the end of the hall.

He was glad he’d thought ahead and slipped the card in his shoe, and placed the tiny transmitter in an inside pocket where it hopefully wouldn’t be detected. It looked like a watch battery. Sarah’s cohorts had some seriously advanced toys. If his escorts found it, they probably wouldn’t realize what it was. He hoped.

The door opened, and before he could brace himself, he was roughly shoved into the room. He stumbled to the floor, and it occurred to him that he might not have avoided that bruising after all. He picked himself up slowly, still maintaining his inebriated behavior. Holding his position on all fours for a second, as if disoriented, he looked up and spotted the computer desk at the far side of the room.

But before he could get up, a foot caught him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and sending him slamming over onto his back. He gasped for air, not needing to fake a thing in his pained response. He looked up to see the security guard towering over him, eyeing him like a big dog getting a treat.

Logan pushed himself up into a sitting position, groaning. “What the hell? Is this how you treat all your guests?”

Valente smiled pleasantly, staring down at him.

“No. Only the ones who accuse us of cheating.”

Logan held up a peaceful hand. He had to find a way to get back by the computer.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I just lost a shitload of money, that’s all. Can’t a guy be pissed?”

Logan raised himself up and staggered forward, holding his gut, feigning a sheepish expression.

“No, not when it could cause irreparable damage to my reputation.”

Logan nearly laughed out loud, but staggered a little closer.

“I said I’m sorry.” A little closer….

“Your apology is useless. You are banned from any of my gambling establishments. Permanently. Call yourself lucky.”

And just close enough. “Why, you filthy…” Logan jumped forward before any of them could see what he was going to do, and he pounced on Valente, landing one hard punch to his jaw. Valente’s head whipped back with the impact, but he was tougher than he looked. He didn’t go down. Instead, he spoke calmly to the guard, but there was violence in his eyes.

“I have a meeting to attend. Apparently, Mr. MacKenzie didn’t get your point—make sure he does.”

The guard grinned at Logan, practically salivating. Logan circled the room, bracing himself to take some hard knocks but positioning himself so he’d take them in the direction of the computer.

“Be quick about it. Then get back out on the floor.” Valente muttered the warning as he opened the door, wiping a little blood from his lip.

When the door closed behind Valente, Logan sharpened up—no need to let himself get beaten to a pulp now that he was alone with Valente’s goon. He smiled
sharply as the guard’s Neanderthal brain slowly figured out that Logan wasn’t drunk at all.

Logan stretched his arms out, bracing himself, ready to get a little revenge for the kick in the ribs. Clued in, but still stupid, the guard charged, and Logan used his own weight against him, swinging him by the arm into the wall behind him. Several framed pictures and documents fell to the floor. Logan tsk-tsked.

“Boss ain’t gonna like that, big guy.”

The guy spun on him, and before it was over, Logan had taken a few of the hard shots he’d anticipated, but he’d won out. The guard lay moaning on the cabin floor, and Logan stood over him, a foot planted securely over his throat. Logan smiled down, applying a little pressure.

“Where are the women that you scum are holding?”

No answer. He pressed down a little, watching the guard’s eyes pop a little.

“Where?”

The guard shook his head, no help at all. Logan swore, pulling him up by the coat and hitting him once more, hard, and knocked him cold. He dragged the guard’s dead weight over to the corner and tied him securely to a table. All of the furniture was bolted to stay put, so his friend might wake up, but he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Logan fished the computer card out, and pulled out the small transmitter, hoping it worked and they could hear him. He made sure the computer was on, and then inserted the card. Grabbing the phone, he dialed the
same number he’d used earlier, feeling triumphant. Ian picked up the phone on the first ring.

“It’s done. You can download. Tell me where Sarah is—I couldn’t find out if there was anyone else here. Then you can send in the troops.”

He heard Ian’s voice, scratchy but clear in his small earpiece. “We lost Sarah’s signal, Logan. They must have found the transmitter. Find her.”

His hands turned to ice as Ian’s precise demand hit him over the phone like a hard slap.

“Logan?”

He didn’t respond, his mind racing to think of where she could be, what could have happened to her while he’d been waiting around all day. He should have tried to find her first.

“Logan!”

“What?”

“We have her last known position in the room at the end of the hall, stern side. Check there first.” Then Ian’s voice softened a bit, and Logan could tell Sarah’s boss was feeling exactly the same fear in the pit of his stomach that he was. “Let us know the moment you have her.”

“I will.”

He’d barely hung up before he was out the door.

S
ARAH SAT CALMLY
on the bed, waiting for her “date.” They’d moved her to a more luxuriously appointed room, though the bed was obviously the centerpiece. Some sex toys and lotions were set conveniently on the bed stand, and she’d counted at least three cameras. She
felt dirty just sitting there, but planned on being the last woman they tried to victimize.

She’d showered and put on the next-to-nothing piece of silk that Valente had left for her—no underwear except for a matching thong. At least the clothes allowed her flexible movement. Certainly, that was for her date’s convenience, but she planned on using it to her advantage.

She’d ignored the heels and remained barefoot. She preferred both feet on the floor when she was kicking someone’s ass. One of the lethal heels they’d provided was hidden under the pillow—a weapon, just in case. If Logan didn’t find a way in, if things went wrong, she’d do what was necessary to protect herself.

But if everything was going according to plan, all hell should break loose soon enough and she’d be out of there.

The day had seemed to last years. She didn’t know what time it was, but the sky outside the portal was black. The boat should have been heading slowly back to shore. But for now it was still, but for the gentle rocking of the waves.

The door handle slid down and she held her breath.

Showtime.

Valente walked through the door with a shorter, fatter, darker man. Sarah wasn’t sure what his ethnicity was, but he had cruel eyes. He looked at her and then his eyes flitted to the table, a greasy smile emerging when he saw the things laid out there. He looked at her again, and she wanted to hide. He nodded at Valente, who smiled and shook his hand warmly before looking at Sarah.

“Our guest finds you acceptable.” He pinned Sarah with his gaze. “I know you won’t disappoint him. He doesn’t speak English, but I’m sure he can make known what he wants from you. Do this well, and maybe you’ll have satisfied your debt by morning. If not…” He shrugged, and turned to the man, saying something in his language, complete gibberish to Sarah.

Valente closed the door with one more meaningful look in her direction. She barely noticed as she was formulating a plan to deal with this disgusting situation. She didn’t want to touch this toad of a man, but she had to take charge to keep the upper hand. No one knew where she was, and until the boat was raided, she was on her own.

She smiled, in what she hoped was a sexy, come-hither way, and lay back on the bed. The toad was practically drooling. It made it hard to not be overcome with disgust; however, as she thought about what she was really going to do, she got a little more in the mood. With all of the cameras on them she had to make this look good, or Valente would have his goons inside within seconds. One fat man she could take; several of Valente’s guards, well, that would be more of a challenge.

Her visitor mumbled something as he strolled slowly to the bed, his eyes glued to her as she leaned back, letting one leg hang over the side of the bed while the other perched in a sexy bend on the blankets. Sarah grinned, using her sexiest voice.

“Bring it on over here, big guy. I am so gonna rock your world.”

He spewed a muffled little laugh and reached out to touch her thigh appreciatively. She had to bite the inside of her cheek not to kick him in the head out of reflex.

She let him touch, to a point, and then wound her leg around the back of his hip, a move he must have liked very much. She tried to keep as much distance as she could, considering there was only a little bit of silk between them. If she was going to get him where she wanted him, she couldn’t be prissy about it.