Undertow (25 page)

He strode over and wrapped his large hand around her slender throat, then jammed the barrel of the Sig against her temple. ´Where is she, you conniving little bitch?µ

´For heaven·s sake, Cutter! It was only a little gold bar! Okay, and a few ³

You·re not here about what I took, are « you?µ

Ńo. Fuck the gold bars.µ She·d suddenly noticed his guys behind him, who were now displaying their weapons. An impressive arsenal of machine guns, semiautomatics, and even an Uzi. Zane had to admit, they looked pretty badass.

´
What
do
you want, Cutter?µ

´You know why I·m here. I want Teal back.
Now
. Where is she?µ He indicated that the men should split up and search the boat.

´Who the hel is Teal?µ Her expression changed as understanding dawned. Ís she that mousy little brunette you·ve been spending time with? Because if she is, you should clue her in that her wardrobe is doing nothing for her.µ

Zane·s fingers tightened enough that the redhead·s face went pink and she gagged. He ignored her short nails digging into his wrist. ´You k now exactly who Teal is because you took her. Just like you·ve been stealing treasure from the
Vrijheid
.µ

´Treasure?µ Her eyes opened wide behind the lenses of her glasses. Áre you tel ing me there·s
treasure
down there?µ

He tightened his fingers around her windpipe and she tried to pry his fingers away. Ćut the crap, lady.µ The wal s of the
Sea Witch
were hung with treasures taken from various Cutter salvages over the years like fucking trophies. Íf you·ve hurt her I·l kil you,µ he told her grimly.

He·d never said that to a living soul in his life, but he was deadly serious. If she·d hurt Teal, he·d³Śtop playing games. Where
is
she?µ To punctuate his question he fired a warning shot into the air.

Áre you fucking
insane
?µ she demanded as bits of fiberglass and Brazilian hardwood rained down from the hole in her ceiling. Úp yours, Cutter. I don·t know what you·ve gotten yourself into, but you·ve clearly pissed off some very nasty people. Too bad I don·t know anything about it. Not my problem. I·m goi ng to damn wel pass out if you keep squeezing my throat like this.µ

Her face was red. He didn·t give a shit. The clock was ticking. Where the fuck had she hidden Teal³had she, God forbid, kil ed her and tossed her overboard?

The very idea chil ed Zane to the marrow. He was terrified enough that he didn·t give a crap that this treacherous bitch was gasping for air. Ásk me if I give a flying fuck,µ his voice was hard. He hauled her up another inch on her tiptoes and looked her right in the eye. Ĺast chance. Your boat isn·t that big. We·l just go ahead and tear it into smal pieces while we search.µ

Ĺike hel you wil .µ She fumbled for the bat stil clenched in her hand and took a swing at him, but he just held her further away, throwing her off balance. She cursed like a sailor and kneed Zane in the bal s.

It wasn·t a direct strike because he·d been sort of anticipating the move, but it was hard enough for him to grunt in pain. He didn·t release her.

Two of his men rushed her, one ripping the bat out of he r hand and the other coming up behind her and putting her in a bear hug.

She kicked out in front of her, sending the first man reeling. Then she threw her head back and headbutted the second man. She nearly broke free of his hold, but the other three men pounced on her and managed to pin her arms behind her back.

´Damn if she doesn·t fight like a man,µ said one of his guys, hauling her to the floor and holding her there with his knee. She was bucking and cursing. Zane might have been impressed by her colorful language if he hadn·t been so pissed and scared.

A thorough inspection of the ship produced nothing. Teal wasn·t aboard. Nor were the divers. The redhead and her fury were alone.

There were fucking
piles
of shit taken from the
Vrijheid
. Just piled in one of the cabins like trophies with familiar pieces from other Cutter salvages over the last few years.

´You have one chance to tel me where Teal is, then we·re going to tear this place apart.µ He had a sinking feeling she wasn·t here, but where else was he supposed to look?

´Go to hel .µ Her enraged shout was muffled by the carpet. Hard to move with a knee in the smal of her back. ´You and your goons are trespassing. If you don·t get the hel off my boat right this fucking second, Zane Cutter, I·m going to disembowel you and your gun -toting thugs with my bare hands.µ Zane in dicated that the guys let her up. Teal wasn·t here. They were wasting precious time. He looked at the redhead with hol ow eyes and a growing emptiness inside. Í·m disemboweled already, lady.µ

* * *

Despite the lights, the ship appeared uninhabited. The three elderly ladies ha d departed on the launch that morning. That wasn·t uncommon. They frequently left to go shopping or whatever they did on shore. Zane had waved back as they passed by, vaguely concerned that they were leaving their very expensive anchored boat to ride out t he storm unattended.

It had seemed odd at the time, but he·d had a thousand other things on his mind and promptly forgot them.

The storm was picking up, and the speedboat was being tossed about on enormous waves.

In between earthshaking booms of thunder, bolts of lightning struck the water, sometimes hitting just inches away.

Zane·s entire body was shaking with exhaustion as they came alongside the
Good Fortune
.

Lights from the main cabin shone on the wet deck, but al was quiet.

The men fanned out, waiting for his signal. Ryan touched his shoulder and pointed. The beautiful bronze urn that had been stolen several days ago stood on the aft deck beside a dive basket. Silent as a cat, Zane crouched down to check out the contents. A two-foot-tal gold cross, a dozen chains, and dozens of coins. A handful of items he couldn·t see clearly, lumpy with conglomerate. Fury pulsed behind his eyebal s.

The size and weight of the urn proved that the three thieves who·d taken Teal were indeed on board the
Good Fortune
. Little old ladies be damned. Jesus. What a fucking clever ruse.

Who·d suspect a trio of grandmothers of engineering a heist of treasure worth a king·s ransom? No one. Certainly not Zane Cutter, that was for sure. Fuckshitdamn.

Clearly the women hadn·t done the dirty work themselves. They·d had help for that. They were probably home in Peoria or Poughkeepsie by now with a mil ion dol ars· worth of stolen loot, laughing their dentures out. Fuck.

Much more important, and the bil i on-dol ar question, was: Where had their accomplices taken Teal? Was she stil on board?

His heart hammered as they skulked below the flybridge enclosure, weapons drawn. One of the men stacked his hands under his cheek, then held up a finger to indicate on e man asleep inside. Through the window, Zane saw the guy sacked out on the couch.

He hefted the urn³Jesus, the thing must weigh a hundred pounds ³and motioned for Ryan to open the door.

Using the urn to knock out a sleeping man was actual y a piece of ca ke and certainly poetic fucking justice. The hard part was not kil ing the guy, given the rage boiling inside him.

One down. How many to go?

Zane led the way through the dark first deck using the penlights they·d brought with them.

The crew had secured the ship and must be holed up below, waiting for the storm to blow over so they could dive again the second it passed.

The men split up. He quickly searched the captain·s cabin, which had been converted into a dorm room with six bunks. It smel ed of sweaty males and beer, proving his theory.

The next cabin was a storage room, scattered with too-large-to-transport-on-the-launch artifacts and treasure pilfered from the
Vrijheid
. He wondered if this was their primary stash, or if it was just the tip of the ic eberg. They systematical y continued their search one deck down. The next stateroom yielded nothing but a pair of knitting needles and a half -finished whatever. Shit. Stil no Teal.

Damn it to hel , where were the men, and what had the fuckers done with Te al?

Was this yet another dead end? His chest hurt with the pressure.
Come on,
Williams. Show
yourself. Where the hell are you?

Other than the normal sounds of a ship at sea³creaks and groans, the slap of waves on the hul ³the ship was eerily quiet. His blood pounded in his ears.

Zane didn·t remember ever being this afraid in his life.

He began flinging open doors. The first revealed another room fil ed with treasure. The next was a filthy food pantry. The third door was locked. He heard muffled noises inside.

´Teal?µ he demanded, his voice hoarse with strain.
Please God
«

Thumping. Muffled grunts, the words unintel igible, but the voice clearly belonged to a woman. A rush of relief swept through him, and Zane sagged against the wal . She was alive. Probably pissed as hel , but alive. Thank God. He saw Ryan and two of the security guys coming out of the end cabin. Í found Teal³find those sons of bitches, and secure whoever·s topside. The second I get her, we·re outta here.µ

They turned and ran back to the stairs. Racing back the way he·d come, Zane swung into the storeroom, grabbed the ax fixed to the bulkhead, and sprinted back.

Two swift strikes of the sharp blade to the door handle, and the heavy door blasted open, spil ing light into the dark cabin.

Teal·s brown eyes shot sparks above the silver duct tape they·d used to gag her. He r muffled cries of fury broke his heart and ratcheted up his anger a couple more notches. He was right there on the incensed scale of livid and he was going to enjoy beating the shit out of the men who·d taken her. As soon as he had her safely away from here.

Three steps took him to her side, Zane ran a hand over her tangled hair. Áh, sweetheart ³µ

They·d tied her to a metal chair in the center of the tiny cabin between two bunks. Her ankles were taped to the front legs of the chair, her arms stretched behind her, presumably taped as wel . She was spitting mad and started struggling the second she saw him.

Zane pul ed his dive knife out as he crouched between her spread knees.

´Hang on. Hang on. Don·t struggle, you·l just ³Let me³okay. Okay, one leg free.

Hold on honey, let³There. Move your feet around to get some circulation going until I can cut your hands³What? Oh.µ He chuckled as she kicked his shin. ´Mouth first. Got it. This is gonna hurt, brace your³Good girl.µ

Ábout freaking
time
you showed up, Cutter! I·ve been sitting here, freaking
hog-tied
, in the
dark
for
hours
.µ Her voice broke from disuse. And relief.

Í·m happy to see you, too, Wil iams.µ The understatement of the century. He hated like hel to see her putting a brave face on how damned scared she·d been.

Her face was dead white and filthy. He didn·t know if the bluish smudge on her temple was dirt or a bruise. But they·d pay either way.

Zane brushed a quick, light kiss to her tender mouth. Her lips clung. Reluctantly he pul ed away, touching her dirty cheek with a finger. Ĺet·s get you rescued, then we can do a recap.

Okay?µ

She nodded, and said in a smal voice that about fucking broke his heart, Í wasn·t sure ³

What took you so long?µ

He shifted to cut through the duct tape wound arou nd her wrists. The tape had cut deep red marks into the tender skin and the cut on her forearm was crusted with dried blood. He cursed viciously and silently. ´Hit the
Sea Bitch
first,µ he told her, taking a moment to gently chafe some life back into her pale fingers until they pinked up.

She turned her head to see him. Í hope you mean literal y.µ

That·s my girl.
´Just a little strangulation and the threat of grievous bodily harm,µ Zane told her dryly. Ćan you stand?µ

She got to her feet. ´Ta da.µ

He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly she squeaked. ´You have no idea how fucking happy I am to see you right now.µ She hugged him as tightly as he was hugging her. But of course they couldn·t stay there like that. He gently disentangled t heir arms.

Í have some idea,µ she said wryly, rubbing her wrists as he brushed hair out of her eyes because he couldn·t not touch her. She covered his hand and brought it to her cheek for a second, before saying briskly, Ís that a gun in your pocket or are you
really
happy to see me?µ

He withdrew the Sig. ´
And
I·m real y happy to see you.µ

´Did you bring one for me?µ she asked hopeful y.

He shook his head, taking her hand. Śorry. No.µ

´Disappointing, I was looking forward to making Swiss cheese out of the guy who slugged me³Are you thinking about getting us the hel off this boat, or should we ask if we can stay for dinner? I vote for option number one.µ

´Good plan.µ His lips twitched. Ćan you walk or do you need me to carry you?µ

She made a rude noise. Í can walk, Cutter.µ

Zane wrapped his arm around her waist, and took a second to press his mouth to hers again.

The contact was pitiful y brief, considering he wanted to do al sorts of things to her just to assure himself that she was alive and in one piece. He reluctantly lifted his head. ´You okay?

The stab wound³µ

Á nick. Don·t sweat the smal stuff.µ

Í·l look at it later. Right now we have to haul ass topside. Brought a couple of the guys with me, and the motorboat awaits.µ

´Yay. What did you do with the bad guys?µ Teal whispered as hand in hand they padded down the dimly lit companionway to the stairs leading to the upper deck. They heard scuffling, a bang as if something heavy had been dropped. A dragging sound, and then silence.

He listened for several seconds. Óne in the salon,µ he barely whispered.