Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (44 page)

She was taken to a place that was no more than a cave in the side of a large boulder. The entranceway was barred by a rusting gate. “An old hideaway for stolen goods,” Al snickered. “And a perfect jail for you.”

He set her on her feet and gave her a shove inside. The gate clanged shut with finality.

She scrambled to her feet and ran to grip the iron bars and stare between them. She could not see the villa from there because of the boulders obscuring the view. How was she going to get out of there?

Going inside, she saw that her abode was completely bare. There was not even a rug to lie on.

She took a deep, tortured breath. Delia
had
to come through for her…had to find a way to get Dirk or one of the other men to her…had…had to…

The words drumming in her mind, she reached to her waist, where the knife was tied down fiat along the line of her thigh. Raoul had given her enough string to do it.

Tonight
had
to be the night. Raoul had told her the crew always celebrated while they were in Santorini, drinking and reveling till dawn. Sometimes the ship sailed without a few who didn’t make it back in time…just as it would sail without her if she didn’t get there.

Raoul had convinced the captain, his cousin, of Briana’s innocence, for which she thanked heaven. The captain was sympathetic, for he had decided, by the time they arrived in port, that Gavin Mason was not what he had at first appeared to be. Too many card games, too much liquor…Gavin Mason had made a few enemies. The captain was not of a mind to interfere, and had ordered Raoul to stay out of the situation, but Raoul was confident that once Briana was on board; she would be safe.

The afternoon wore on, and as the sun began to die in the horizon, leaving a trail of blood on the azure sea, Delia came to the cave. In a frenzied whisper, she told Briana that all was ready.

“Gavin is in such good spirits now that we’re here! He told the men to take the night off once the crates are stored, and go back down into the village and raise hell.

“And,” she added, “I got to Dirk. I did it, Briana! I fixed everything. I told him that Gavin made arrangements to sell you to a rich merchant from Turkey, that you had brought a good price, and he wanted to get rid of you because you know too much. I told him Gavin wasn’t turning you over to him, like he promised, because the Turkish buyer wouldn’t take you if you were messed up.”

Briana felt panicky. “But what if he goes to Gavin to argue about selling me? Then everything will come out.”

“No,” Delia assured her. “Dirk won’t jeopardize things. He thinks we have a deal. He comes here and gets you, takes you into the village and keeps you down there, all to himself. I don’t tell Gavin, and Gavin will think, of course, that you ran away.”

Briana had very little faith in Delia, but she had no other choice, either. “You’ve done a good job, Delia. Thank you.”

Suddenly Delia’s eyes filled with tears. “Good luck, Briana. Somewhere along the line I started feeling sorry for you. I’m glad it worked out that I could help.”

She hurried away before Briana could say anything.

Briana sighed. She sat down on the stone floor to await her destiny. Delia had chosen her destiny, with Gavin, and Briana knew that she would take anything fate held out to her over Delia’s future with that madman.

Despite his head injury, Colt had slept little since leaving France, succumbing only when weariness gave him no choice. He was filled with a myriad of emotions galloping through him like wild creatures.

He kept a constant vigil at the ship’s railing, as if he could will the ship to move faster.

Inquiries and bribes at the port in Monaco had given them the information that Mason had procured a vessel to take himself, two women, six men, and cargo to the Greek island of Thera, sometimes called Santorini. Obtaining that information had not come cheap, for Mason had paid a large sum to keep it from being given out. Travis paid more to receive it

Travis and Colt departed four days after Mason did. Nevertheless, the captain assured them that they stood a good chance of reaching the island at the same time as Mason, if not actually before. “I know the ship they’re on,” he had told them confidently. “The ship is old…with only a four-cylinder steam engine and a six-mast sail. Its top speed is only eleven knots. We can achieve over twenty knots because this ship sails entirely on steam.

“If speed is what you want,” he finished with a grin, “you’ve got the fastest ship available.”

Colt had winced when his father told him just how much the voyage and the bribes had cost, but Travis smiled. He couldn’t resist a good-natured barb. “Did you really think I left my whole fortune in your hands?”

Colt appreciated the lightness, knew that, somehow, his father was hurting for him as much as he hurt. Travis understood how a man can make mistakes. He understood how Colt was feeling, knew the pain, the fury, the burning need for revenge.

And, yes, love for the woman who had been used so cruelly.

Travis watched Colt as they stood at the bow of the ship taking them to Greece. What, Travis wondered, could he say to his son? He wasn’t angry with Colt for having been deceived. They would get the gold back—and, ultimately, the ranch and the mine.

He placed his hand on Colt’s shoulder, understanding the pain he was feeling, and the humiliation. Colt didn’t take his gaze from the water. Neither did he speak. It wasn’t necessary. Both men acknowledged that sometimes silence was the best communication between people who truly understand each other.

Briana huddled on the floor of the cave, trying not to feel the sharp rocks pressing painfully against her body. She pretended to be sleeping, but every nerve was afire.

She had tucked the knife behind a rock, then practiced feeling for it in the darkness until she knew exactly how to reach it from wherever she lay. There could be no miscalculation, for she would get but one chance.

A servant from the mansion brought her cheese, bread, and wine as darkness closed in. Briana tried to speak to her, but the Greek woman stared at her with wide, frightened eyes, backing away quickly after shoving the food through the bars.

Briana ate, needing the strength, then took up her position inside the cave.

As it grew late, she started to feel panicky. What If Dirk didn’t come? What if he had gone off with his men to get drunk? What if he had decided not to risk it? What if he had talked to Gavin? -

Just as she began to believe the ship would be sailing without her, footsteps crunched against the gravel outside her prison.

She lay very still, forcing herself to breathe deeply and evenly.

There was the sound of a key grating in the lock, and the rusty gate squeaking open.

She tensed, ready, as Dirk crept forward, groping. He laughed drunkenly.

“Hey, little spitfire,” he whispered, “where are you? Me and you are takin’ a little trip, isn’t that nice? You better come along nice and quiet, because you’ll be a lot happier with me than with some crazy Turk—”

He bumped into her foot. She stirred, moaning softly, pretending to be asleep.

“There you are…” He ran his hand over her back, and when he felt the swell of her buttocks beneath his fingertips, he breathed deeply, declaring vehemently, “I’ve waited a long time for this—too damn long. I’m gonna have what’s been due me a long time.”

She heard him fumbling with his trousers, but she managed to will her body to stay relaxed, as though asleep.

When he had made himself ready to take her, he jerked her roughly over onto her back, pinning her wrists together with one hand while pressing his other hand across her mouth to keep her silent. Her eyes flew open and he grunted, glad to see her awake and looking at him. He reeked of whiskey. “You’re gonna give me what you gave Coltrane, damn you,” he snarled, “and you’re gonna give it to me good. You belong to me now, and I’m gonna teach you how to please me. The day you don’t is the day you die!”

He used his knee to spread her thighs, warning that if she made a sound when he took his hand away from her mouth, he would make her wish she hadn’t.

Briana made little moans deep in her throat, as though terrified and submissive.

Dirk was pleased. “Hell, I knew once you found out I was boss you’d lose that feisty temper. Now, just relax and it won’t hurt…”

He positioned himself between her legs. She continued to whimper and made no move to defend herself, so he released her wrists, moving his hand to fondle her breasts.

“You’re doin’ good,” he gloated. “You know when you’re licked, and I think you’ve also gotten a look at me down here, so you realize how good it’s gonna be.”

It took all the nerve she had to wait, and not reach for the knife too soon. It was all she could do, too, to keep from screaming aloud with outrage.

He continued slobbering over her, and then, very slowly, she reached out for the knife. Her fingers closed around the handle.

Above her, Dirk Hollister grunted and mumbled. She gripped the knife handle, tensed, then brought the knife down in a deadly arc. But just before it reached the back of his neck, Dirk felt her sudden movement and rolled to the side just fast enough that the blade thrust into his shoulder instead of his neck.

He screamed with pain. Briana knew there wasn’t time to try to jerk the knife out so that she could stab him again.

She slammed her hands against his shoulders, pressing her own shoulders back against the ground. With one mighty heave, she raised her hips, bucking him away from her. She lunged to the side and slipped from beneath him, scrambling to her feet while she put as much distance between them as she could.

He was writhing and moaning. Blood was coming in a steady stream, and she could only pray that he was weakened by the loss of it.

She rushed from the cave, pausing outside just long enough to gulp in fresh air and try, for a few seconds, to compose herself and remember the way.

Then she took off, running as hard as she could. She left the rocky plateau and headed down the precarious trail, casting fearful eyes upward every few steps, praying for the miracle of moonlight. But it was a cloudy night, and she could barely see.

Lifting her long skirt, trying to pick her way carefully while moving as fast as possible, she began panting with exertion and fear.

Now and then, when the moon teased her by breaking through the clouds, she made a point of not looking to her left…where she knew she would see the sprawling black space down there that reminded her of how easy it would be to slip and plunge down six hundred feet to her death.

Every so often she had to stop and rest, panting. The way was treacherous, and she couldn’t afford any missteps. Raoul had said the walk down would take about two hours, maybe a bit more. The trail zigzagged first one way, then another way, for the mountain was too steep for a single trail straight up. If she continued at her present pace, she ought to reach the ship in plenty of time. She was breathing hard now, and hoped the nearness of Raoul and the ship would buoy her flagging energy.

Like a bat swooping in the night, strong hands clutched her throat and forced her down against the stones. She clawed at the hands choking her, felt dizziness overtaking her.

“Bitch…” came the guttural snarl. “Die, bitch…”

He kicked her, sending her sprawling forward and down, down into the endless night.

She felt but one sharp pain as her head struck a rock, and then she began floating in that endless sea of night.

Dirk Hollister stared down into the darkness, chest heaving. The knife was still buried to its hilt in his shoulder. He hadn’t been able to remove it. But there was, at long last, jubilation at knowing the bitch was dead. He’d sooner have died himself than allow Briana to escape. Well, she’d never escape again.

He began to make his way back up to the mansion, where he would get someone to pull out the goddamn knife. And then, by God, he was going to find out what Briana had been doing with Gavin Mason’s knife!

Briana moaned against the terrible pain clawing at her head. She remembered nothing of what had happened, didn’t know where she was, desired only for the clutching fingers of oblivion to take her away again from the terrible hurting.

When Dirk kicked her, she had not pitched off’ the ledge as he had meant for her to do. The large rock on which she’d struck her head had stopped her fall only twenty feet down.

As she waited for the black fog to waft her away again, a sound reached Briana’s ears. But a moment later she was unconscious once more. She didn’t hear the clicking of hooves on the trail, didn’t wonder who was riding so dangerously fast up the mountain.

Chapter Thirty-Two

By the time Dirk made his way to the room their host had assigned to Gavin, pain had driven all vestiges of reason from his consciousness. It had all been a trap, he knew, to get rid of him. Mason, deciding to keep Dirk’s share of the wealth for himself, had given Briana a knife and set Dirk up to get killed.

He kicked Gavin’s door in. Gavin was asleep, head on Delia’s breast. At the sight of Dirk, covered in blood and looking like a bull gone mad, Delia screamed. Gavin came groggily awake just in time to see Hollister lunge for him, a nightmare apparition. It was Gavin Mason’s final vision of life before Dirk plunged the knife into his throat.