He was off her, Sam realized, inhaling raggedly and fighting a different battle. She could hear the blows that were raining against him.
“Sue, stop it!”
“You slimy, two-timing, gigolo son of a bloody bastard. You said—”
“Oh, my God!” Sam gasped, realizing to whom the voices belonged. The Emersons. “Joey, you bastard. Get this blindfold off me and untie me. I don’t know what you think—”
“Great!” Joey broke in. “This is just great, Sue. Now she knows who we are. We’re going to have to kill her.”
“Now wait—” Sam began.
“Don’t be an ass, Joey. If you just explain—”
“Explain? Are you out of your mind?”
“Oh, no, don’t explain!” Sue said sarcastically. “Your way is much better. Beat her. Rape her. That will make the both of us just adore you.”
“I wasn’t going to—”
“Then what the hell were you doing?”
“Trying to scare her. I was working—”
“What a chore that must have been!”
“Sue, I love you!”
“For the love of God, will you at least take this stupid blindfold off me?” Sam pleaded.
The Emersons were silent. A moment later Sam exhaled a sigh of relief as the blindfold was wrenched away from her eyes.
She was on a boat. A nice one. The bunk she was tied to was surrounded by mahogany cabinetry and shelves lined with books. She was staring at a complete entertainment system.
Joey and Sue were staring at her. They were both in bathing suits.
Not formally dressed, but in far better shape than she could claim herself at the moment. Her dress was in tatters. She felt both frighteningly vulnerable and ridiculous at the same time.
“Would you please consider untying me?” she demanded icily.
Sue glanced at Joey, who had the grace to look ashamed.
“Please, these ties are really painful. I can barely feel my arms anymore.”
Sue stepped forward. Sam realized that she had been tied up with a pair of Sue’s stockings.
“Sue, I didn’t tell you that you could untie her.”
“Shut up, Joey.”
“All right, Sam. I’m actually sorry about this,” Joey said, “but I want you to know that I’ve got a gun on you now. Don’t try anything.”
“Thanks,” she told Sue, rubbing her wrists to bring some life back to them and ignoring Joey’s threat.
Her feet had been secured by one of Joey’s belts. She freed herself. Joey did indeed have a gun. It was very small, the size of his hand. But considering some of Joey’s family ties, Sam was sure that the gun was both real and lethal.
Sue stood next to Joey but kept staring at Sam, shaking her head.
“You’re slime, Joey. And to think that I married you, that I fell in love with you!”
“Dammit, Sue, I didn’t really intend to do anything to her. I knew you were sleeping in the other cabin, just waiting for the drug to wear off her.”
“This was idiotic to begin with,” Sue insisted.
Joey sighed deeply. “It is not idiotic. I want to find that ship. My mother wants me to find that ship, and my brother wants me to find that ship. My dad was stabbed. And I’ll bet you she knows it.”
“I just found that out this afternoon,” Sam said awkwardly. “Joey…Shapiro?”
“Yeah. Son of a dead man. Knifed through the gut. He was half consumed by fish when they found him.”
“Your dad was a gangster. Joey, come on!” Sue pleaded suddenly. “You don’t want that life.”
“He was a diver.”
“He was a criminal, playing rough games for high stakes.” She glanced at Sam. “I told him not to do this! The day he came after you in your living room, he was nearly decked by that cop friend of yours. Idiot!” she told Joey.
“How was I supposed to have known they had a past history and that Adam O’Connor would come rushing to her rescue? This should have been all over that night. She should have passed out nicely, wakened terrified and answered all my questions.”
“I don’t have the answers you want!” Sam insisted. She looked at Sue. “And he didn’t attack me in my living room,” Sam added, deciding it might serve her well to keep the argument going between the two of them. “He broke in through my window and attacked me in the bathtub.”
“The bathtub!” Sue shrieked at Joey.
She’d never realized before just how young the Emersons were, Sam thought. Right now, they looked like a pair of squabbling children.
Except that they were children with a prisoner. Playing cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers.
And she still might get an arrow—or a bullet—through her heart.
Joey was attempting to be placating once again. “Sue, you knew I was going to get her to talk, no matter what it took.”
“No, you’re wrong on that one, Joey. I knew you were getting obsessed with this thing, but not at the cost of everything else.”
“Sue…”
“Joey—” Sue broke off, staring at Sam. “He really attacked you in your bathroom?”
“I was right in the tub.”
Sue swung around, slapping Joey as hard as she could. “You son of a bitch! She was naked.”
“Well, it wasn’t my fault! How the hell did I know what she was going to be doing when I went through the window?”
“Amazing! She’s nearly naked right now! Oh, Joey, I just do not believe this!” Sue cried. She swung at Joey again.
And hit him.
Hit him so hard that she knocked him off-balance. Trying to regain his footing, Joey grabbed at his wife.
They went down together.
Sam stared at them for a split second, then decided that opportunity might not come again.
She sprang from the bunk, wincing in pain as the sudden movement stabbed straight through her arms and legs. Joey’s gun had fallen. If she took the time to reach for it, Joey might well drag her down, as well.
She kicked the gun. It went flying under the bunk and clattered as it slipped between the boards of the cabinetry.
“Look what you’ve done!” Joey shrieked at Sue, gaining his feet.
Sam didn’t wait for Sue’s reply.
She flew out of the cabin, past the salon and galley, and bounded up the steps that led to the upper deck.
And there she stood dead still.
She was surrounded by darkness.
The darkness of the water.
The Stygian darkness of the sea at night.
The wind whipped around her. The boat was rocking wildly.
The storm was brewing wickedly.
And she was in the center of a wild black void.
She swung around. Thank God. Light. She could see light. Seafire Isle. If only she could judge the distance. They hadn’t come so far.
But far enough.
They’d come somewhere between one and two miles from shore, perhaps.
What a difference! she mocked herself. What was a mile on a night like this?
