“When did he do that?”
“While we sailed here. He has a really good hacker.”
She looked pointedly at each and every one of them. “What did he find?”
Owen glanced at Merrick, who glanced at M, who turned unchanging eyes to Calan.
Sadie folded her arms again and looked at Calan.
He sighed and shifted weight from one foot to the other with a jerky movement that conveyed his frustration. “We have email transfers between several of his men, including Zhafa, that reveal traceable connections to Dharr and his organization, which is about to undergo some changes since his death. Dervishi’s involvement won’t look good to the rest of the world. He won’t want to attract that kind of attention.”
All she could do was stare at him. “Wow,” she finally said. “I didn’t even notice when all that happened.”
“M took the call,” he said.
She looked at M, who rewarded her with his usual and customary desensitized gaze.
“And if you’re wrong?”
“That’s what this is for,” Calan indicated the images. “Contingency.”
In case they needed to escape. In case something went wrong. Which, Sadie was almost a hundred percent sure, something would. What if Dervishi wasn’t threatened by the emails? It might not be enough to worry him.
“Where will I be when you go to meet him?”
“In the car.” Calan moved away from the table and came to stand in front of her. “Where you’ll
stay
until we’re finished.”
“What car?”
“The one Owen is going to pick up as soon as we’re finished here,” he said, eyeing her pointedly.
So that option was out. He’d be expecting her to try to drive away from him. He’d be watching her.
But maybe she could use that to her advantage.
Chapter 11
C
alan’s even breathing didn’t reassure her. Wondering if he was really asleep, Sadie quietly slipped out from under the covers and got up. She needed to keep it to only him who came after her and not the other four, at least not until she had a chance to get a head start.
She went into the bathroom, shut the door and dressed, having purposefully left all her things in there. While she’d gotten ready for bed last night, she’d taken money from Calan’s bag and put it in hers. Carrying the duffel bag, she walked quiet as a cat to the stairs, glancing at Calan, who still slept, or pretended to sleep. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she heard snores from the couch. Owen. George was on the floor.
On the main level, she searched through the darkness for Owen’s duffel bag. Seeing it along the end of the couch, right under his head, she inwardly cringed. Of course, it’d have to be right there. But the sounds of his snoring bolstered her courage. That and the fact that the bag was open.
Slowly approaching, she looked behind her and up toward the loft. No sign of Calan yet. Crouching, she reached into the bag and felt around. Lifting a knife in a holster with a thigh strap, she put that in her bag and stuck her hand in the duffel again, this time pulling out the handcuffs. Checking on Owen as she stood, seeing he hadn’t stirred, she went to the table where Owen had left the car rental keys. She already had the yacht keys. With another glance behind her, she headed for the front door.
Stepping outside, she closed it, caught sight of Calan coming down the stairs from the loft. Just as she’d expected. Closing the door, she ran to the rental where it was parked in the half-circle driveway in front of the villa. Locking one half of the cuffs to the handle, she pretended to bend over as if opening the car door.
Calan came around the rear and slid his arm around her waist. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked with his face beside hers.
She snapped the other half of the cuffs to his wrist and twisted out from between him and the car, stepping back.
He looked from her to the cuffs and tugged his wrist, his face storming into an angry scowl. “Unlock these.”
“I can’t stay with you anymore.”
That confession along with the adamancy of her tone softened his anger. The truth had become clear to him. The danger no longer mattered. What was happening between them affected her emotions too much. She was falling for him and didn’t trust that he felt the same or would allow anything to progress beyond what they had here.
“Sadie. Don’t,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” There was more she could say, more that her heart needed to say, but she didn’t have time. She turned and ran for the side of the villa.
“Sadie!”
She reached the slope and had to slow to watch her footing. Calan began yelling for the others. Her feet sank into the sand and she ran as fast as she could, whipping her head back for a quick look. No one was in sight. At the shore, she pushed the dinghy into the water. Jumping in, she worked to start the engine between glances toward the villa. Giving the engine fuel, she propelled the boat to its top speed. When she reached the yacht, she spotted shadows moving on the beach.
She slowed the dinghy and brought it alongside the yacht, tossing her duffel bag onto the swim deck and hurrying aboard. Starting the crane to lift the dinghy aboard, Sadie grabbed her bag and ran to the pilot house. On her way, she paused to check the shore. Four men stood on the beach and Calan was in the water. He was going to swim after her.
Lifting the anchor, she secured the dinghy and then hurried back to the pilot house, where she started the yacht engine. Pushing the throttle forward into a turn, she steered the yacht toward Durres. Glancing toward shore, she could barely make out the shape of Calan swimming toward her. He’d never catch her.
They would expect her to go to the marina, so she wouldn’t go there. She’d get close enough so that she could walk to find transport to Tirana. She checked the GPS monitor to see where she was and where she was going and then set the Garmin system. There weren’t any reliable weather updates she could access in Albania, but she wasn’t going to venture far from land. And she had to make sure she stayed within the mapped channel surveyed to be clear of mines left over from Albania’s communist past. Once she was satisfied with her course, she set the autopilot.
Going to her duffel bag, she strapped the knife to her thigh and then pulled the slide back on the pistol to make sure it was ready to fire. Not that she would have to fire it. The only way she’d need a weapon was if someone other than police or Calan got too close to her.
Now all she had to do was wait. More than Calan expecting her to go to Durres made doing so a bad idea. This yacht was stolen. Port authorities would want to see documentation like owner registration and insurance papers and her passport. None of that would jive. Leaving was easier than arriving in this country. She’d have to find a safe place to anchor and remain out of sight of the marina and then dinghy to shore and hope for some luck to go her way for a change.
It seemed to take forever to reach the area she’d chosen to anchor. Seeing the spit of land that jutted out just as the map displays indicated, she shut off the yacht lights and cut the engine. When it was safe, she dropped anchor, hoping the map of surveyed water was correct and there weren’t any mines lurking. When nothing happened, she worked on lowering the dinghy. The shore was dark except for lights coming from some buildings to the south. When the dinghy was in the water, she climbed in.
She’d have to watch out for port authority officials. They watched the coast very closely. But even if she was caught, maybe all she had to do was tell the truth and ask to be taken to the embassy or the nearest police station. She’d rather get to the embassy herself, though. This wasn’t a popular tourist spot and not the safest one, either.
Motoring to shore, she strained her eyes in the darkness and searched the beach. Nothing moved and no sounds alerted her over those of the waves washing ashore. There was a rocky incline beyond the sandy beach. She’d have to climb that and see which way to go.
Slinging her duffel over her shoulder, she found a path and climbed the slope. At the top, she stayed low and searched for anything that might be a threat. Still nothing.
Just then she heard the sound of a motorboat and looked back to see the port authority circling the yacht. Once they saw her dinghy, they’d come check it out.
She ran across a rocky, shrubby field. Reaching a road, she checked her surroundings again. There were houses to the south. One was dark and closest to her. The road to the north was dark, but that was the way to the marina and Durres. She’d have a hard time finding transportation away from the marina at this hour.
Headlights made her heart skip frantically. She faced the dark building and ran for it, going to the back and pressing herself against the wall, looking around the corner to watch the approaching vehicle.
It stopped along the road. Two men got out. They were talking but she couldn’t understand them. She didn’t think the driver had taken the keys. They walked toward the beach unhurried, suggesting they weren’t expecting to find foul play, only doing a routine check. When they disappeared from sight, Sadie sprinted to the car. It was a faded tan Mercedes sedan.
Testing the handle of the driver’s door, she yanked it open when she discovered it was unlocked. The keys were in the ignition.
Climbing in, she started the engine and turned the car around, pressing on the gas to race down the road. She felt lightheaded and her whole body trembled. She’d never done anything so crazy in her life! What if she was caught?
“Damn her!” Calan roared.
M glanced over at him from the driver’s seat. He’d insisted on driving, saying that Calan was in no shape to keep a low profile.
“She’ll go the U.S. embassy,” Merrick said from the back seat. He, Owen, and Reed were all packed in like sardines, their bodies too big for the mid-size sedan.
“She won’t make it that far.” Calan was sick with foreboding. He couldn’t imagine Sadie on her own out there. And he hated how helpless that made him feel.
“I think she might surprise you,” M said.
Reed chuckled from the backseat.
“They usually do,” Owen said. “You’re talking about a woman who thought ahead enough to take my handcuffs.”
“And the keys to the rental car,” Merrick said.
They’d had to hot wire it to start it.
“How did she know you had handcuffs?” Reed asked Owen.
Calan glanced back unappreciatively at the three. He wasn’t happy about how easily she’d duped him.
“She saw him fondling them,” M said with a note of derision.
Owen smirked at M through the rearview mirror, which he had a good view of sitting in the middle. “You never know when you’re going to need them.” Merrick grunted.
“It’s not the way you think,” Owen tried to defend himself.
“We’ve seen your magazines,” Reed said.
“Hey. I’m a man. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought of that. Or bought magazines.”
“I prefer the real thing,” Merrick said.
“Why do you think Owen has handcuffs?” M teased. The real thing…
“You guys are just jealous,” Owen said.
Merrick turned to him. “I thought you had them in case you needed to bind a bad guy.”
“That, too.”
“How many women do you meet who like handcuffs?” Reed asked.
“He’s never met one who has,” Merrick said.
“How would you know?” M asked.
Calan was getting tired of their casual banter. Weren’t they worried about Sadie?
Not like he was. In just a week she’d grown to mean more to him than he ever should have allowed.
“We weren’t talking about me,” Owen countered. “We were talking about Sadie. How many women do you know who’d outsmart one of us?”
Calan looked back at him. “She didn’t outsmart me.”
“She handcuffed you to a car.”
Beside him, M chuckled.
“I didn’t expect her to do that. I also didn’t know she could navigate a yacht.”
“She’s the daughter of a wealthy restaurateur.”
Yes, she’d spent a lot of time on yachts. He knew that. But Sadie was…Sadie.
Calan caught himself then. Sadie was Sadie. Helpless, socialite Sadie. Except that wasn’t who she was at all. She was strong and intelligent. She was the Sadie he was getting to know. And he was no different than anyone else she’d met who’d turned their back on her. Not intentionally, but losing a wife and another woman he loved to the same evil man had taken its toll. Up until now, he wasn’t sure he could give any woman what she needed. He’d thought it wasn’t fair to Sadie for him to enter into a relationship in that condition. But that’s exactly what had happened. A relationship had begun.
The degree of their intimacy, the urgency of it, the love that stirred and had sprouted—was still sprouting—meant something. He felt something for her, something real, something powerful, a deep connection that wasn’t going to break. Now that he understood, he wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to have a relationship with her.
He wished she was here so he could tell her. But she wasn’t. She was off on her own, trying to escape him, trying to go home, believing he’d abandon her as soon as this was over.
He didn’t blame her for running. Had he been in her shoes, he’d have done the same.
A man waving his hands in the middle of the road jolted his attention elsewhere. Another man stood on the side of the road talking on a cell phone.
“Look over there,” Reed said. “It’s the yacht.”
Calan barely made out the white shape of the boat just offshore and over the horizon of the slope that dropped to the sea. He couldn’t see the shore, but he’d bet a dinghy was there.
“Keep driving,” he told M.
“I wasn’t going to stop,” he answered, passing the men.
Calan looked back at the man now throwing a punch in the air at them, his mouth moving with angry words.
“At least we know she got away from them,” Merrick said.
And Calan faced forward. “I guess I did underestimate her.”
But that didn’t mean she’d be as lucky if Dervishi ever caught up to her.
The sun had risen by the time Sadie parked on the side of the gas station where Calan had gotten gas the day he’d driven her to the embassy, more of a kiosk with a single attendant. Removing the knife from her thigh and the gun from her duffel bag, glad she hadn’t had to use them, she got out of the car. She’d hardly be able to get past security in the embassy packing a big knife and a stolen gun. She looked around to make sure no one noticed her. There were no cars at the station and no window on this side of the kiosk. She hauled her duffel bag over her shoulder and walked behind the kiosk and then toward the street.
Glancing behind her as much as she dared without looking conspicuous, she walked the few blocks to the embassy. Cars drove by on the busy street, and she walked past other pedestrians who were slower on the sidewalk. She didn’t see anyone who recognized her.
At the embassy gates, she approached the guard shack. An official approached her.
“I’m a U.S. citizen,” she said. “I lost my passport and I’m here to pick up the replacement.” She took in the gun at his hip and the automatic rifle he had over his shoulder.
The man studied her, then nodded and let her pass. She opened the door and waited for the man in front of her to finish his business. When it was her turn, she asked to see the duty officer who helped her get a replacement passport.
“Your name?”
“Sadie Mancini.”
The woman picked up her phone. “There is a Sadie Mancini here to see you.” After a moment she hung up. “He’ll be right here.”
Did that mean her passport was ready? Sadie smiled, unable to keep her elation from giving it an especially beaming quality.
The duty officer appeared with a smile. “I tried to call you at your hotel, but they said you checked out.”
“Is my passport ready?”
“Yes, yes. Come with me.”
Elation swam inside her as she followed him down a hall. At an office door, he stopped and let her in before him. She went in and turned.