The Power Trip

Mercedes ran to meet Cruz on the starboard side. So far so good — nobody had realized that invaders were busy slipping aboard. This was Cruz’s easiest takeover yet.

He handed Mercedes a bag filled with heavy-duty padlocks, and told her to use them to lock the guests in their cabins until it was time to extract them.

‘Somebody better secure Kyril,’ she worried. ‘Before the drugs wear off an’ he goes on a rampage.’

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Cruz answered.

She noticed he had his gun out. Was the big chocolate-loving Russian about to be terminated?

It wasn’t her concern, she had a job to do.

* * *

At first Flynn thought he was hallucinating as he peered out to sea. What the hell? Boats approaching. Boats in the middle of the night.

Was someone in trouble? What was going on?

The rain had almost stopped and from his vantage point on the top deck he could make out shadowy figures. Shadowy figures that were affixing ropes and then crawling up both sides of The Bianca.

Jesus Christ! Was is possible The Bianca was being pirated?

* * *

‘I’m sick,’ Jeromy muttered, feeling sorry for himself. ‘Really sick.’

Luca didn’t hear him, because Luca was still asleep.

Jeromy had tried to wake him, to no avail. Selfish blond god pop star. May his next tour fail dismally. May his success vanish overnight. May his golden cock wither and drop off.

Jeromy made it out of the bathroom, reached for his mono-grammed silk robe, put it on, left their room and headed for the stairs, hoping that fresh air might help him recover.

As he reached the staircase he came face to face with Mercedes.

‘Thank God someone’s up,’ he grumbled. ‘Fetch me some sea-sick pills, and a hot cup of tea. Perhaps some plain toast too. Do it fast. I’ll be upstairs.’

Mercedes was speechless, but only for a moment. ‘You’d better get back to your room,’ she said brusquely. ‘We have a flood going on.’

‘I need fresh air,’ Jeromy said with a petulant scowl. ‘Forget about your stupid flood and get me what I require. I’ll be on the middle deck.’

‘Fine,’ she said, brushing past him.

‘Now,’ Jeromy called after her. ‘Do it now.’

She was gone.

Staff. Rude and arrogant. Jeromy decided he would complain to Guy about the girl. He’d never liked her, she’d always exhibited attitude. The Australian girl was far more polite, and prettier too.

* * *

On the next deck up, Cruz surveyed the drugged-out Russian security guard. He was a big man — huge, in fact, a fucking giant.

Did they really want to deal with him when he surfaced?

Negative on that.

* * *

Diving under the water of the Jacuzzi, Bianca surfaced between Aleksandr’s strong thighs. She resembled a sleek seal, her long black hair sticking to her back, mimicking an exotic tail.

‘You, my dear, are extremely inventive,’ Aleksandr remarked, attempting to get his breath back after a marathon session of under-water lovemaking. When Bianca was in the mood she could be quite insatiable, but then so could he, which made them extremely compatible in the bedroom.

‘I know,’ Bianca purred, stroking his thighs. ‘I told you we’d have fun.’

‘The storm is over, we should go back inside.’

‘Not before I—’

Her words were cut short by the sound of a gunshot.

Aleksandr was immediately alert.

‘What was that?’ Bianca asked.

On his feet, stepping out of the Jacuzzi, Aleksandr was already trying to reach Kyril, who failed to answer.

Somewhere in the distance he heard shouting and another gunshot.

Aleksandr’s survival instinct kicked into high gear. He immediately rushed over to his bedside drawer to retrieve his gun.

It was gone.

He turned to Bianca. ‘Get dressed,’ he said urgently, reaching for his own clothes. ‘Something’s wrong.’

Chapter Eighty-Two

‘Shit!’ Eddie March exclaimed. His phones in the office had not stopped ringing, and he could not get through to Hammond on The Bianca. It appeared all lines were down.

The office was pandemonium. Outside on the street the press were assembling, waiting for something — anything — from Senator Patterson’s camp regarding the sex scandal.

Radical had vanished. Taken her ill-gotten gains and no doubt skipped town. Where she would run to, Eddie had no clue. And quite frankly he didn’t care. Although he could imagine another lurid headline in the making: SENATOR PATTERSON’S TEENAGE DAUGHTER MISSING.

Martin Byrne had turned into a man possessed. He’d stormed into Eddie’s office yelling and screaming about how he would sue the Senator for everything he had.

‘It was your daughter who sold her story,’ Eddie pointed out.

‘Because that degenerate you work with had his daughter talk her into it!’ Martin shouted, ready to explode with wrath.

Eddie had no sympathy for any of them. He was seriously considering resigning when Hammond returned.

How could he stay working for a man who obviously had no respect for the position he held? Let alone respect for his beautiful wife. It simply wasn’t good enough.

* * *

Meanwhile, Radical had hooked up with a boy she’d known and crushed on way back in Wyoming, before her mom had died and before she’d come searching out her father.

His name was Biff. He was seventeen and a Goth.

She’d sent him a bus ticket and booked them into a hotel room off Times Square, paying for everything with her newfound newspaper money.

Radical was happy for the first time in years.

Chapter Eighty-Three

Power. Yes, power was the ultimate aphrodisiac, and didn’t Hammond know it as he gazed down at the naked virgin spread out in all her glory.

He hadn’t had a virgin in a long while, since girls today seemed to get it on with their boyfriends earlier and earlier. It was a shame, a waste. Smart girls picked a man who knew what he was doing. Hammond Patterson was