Captain's Paradise (11 page)

“And just to make sure we don’t find ourselves tripping over eager fishermen,” Raven said wryly, “Dane was busy before the sun rose, casually passing the word among his fellow fishermen that the best fishing is around the two islands south of the Maze. Those islands are close but not too close. So, hopefully, while Sutton’s men are watching the water traffic to their south, we can circle around, cross the island
from the north, and reach the yacht while their attention’s focused elsewhere.”

Michael looked at them for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. “Is there a base you haven’t covered?”

“That was the easy stuff,” Teddy dismissed. “The trick is still going to be getting the girls off the yacht. Distracted or not, those men are armed. Six of us, counting Dane, but we can’t just swarm over the boat.”

“When the cat’s away …” Robin murmured suddenly in a thoughtful tone.

Raven met her eyes, then nodded slowly. “Maybe. If we could lead a few of those guys astray, get them off the yacht …”

“They’re professionals,” Michael objected, seeing where this was leading and not happy about it.

“And they’ve been under a great deal of strain,” Raven pointed out. “Stuck on that boat and not allowed to touch the girls. The girls are probably drugged; certainly they’re locked in a cabin or two. They don’t really
need
all those
guards. And maybe a few of those guys would love to be invited to a party.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “If we survive this, your husbands will lynch me.”

“They’d be the first to understand,” Teddy assured him blithely.

“What if the guards bring their guns to the party?” Robin asked.

Raven smiled slightly. “Teddy brought her usual supply of tranquilizer darts; we’ll be armed too.”

“I don’t like it,” Michael said.

Robin looked at him levelly. “What choice do we have?”

He nodded slowly, getting the point. “You’re right. What choice do we have?”

T
HE
B
LACK
A
NGEL
rode her sea anchor easily on the calm water, engines silent. Michael hadn’t dared take her in any closer, wary of risking Sutton’s recognition of the boat. Nor was he prepared to circle around to the north, leaving his enemy with a clear escape route to the south. He and the women agreed that if Sutton moved at all, he would most likely head south since that presented his best chances of leaving U.S. territory quickly and safely.

All of them knew they were battling the clock.
Their best guess was that Sutton had initially planned to have only Lisa on his yacht by the time Michael came hunting him; the crackdown on boats around the coast had forced him to keep the other girls aboard days longer than was safe or practical. He would soon be forced to decide which was his priority: revenge against Michael or the valuable cargo of the girls.

Both Michael and Dane felt strongly that revenge would come out on top; therefore, they had to move against Sutton before he decided to cut his losses. He was a man who took few chances, and the girls would never be freed alive.

Michael knew only too well that the plan he’d agreed to with the others was one that depended on a number of opinions and instincts. And the linchpin of their entire plan was that Sutton would return to Miami once he heard of the danger to his investments. Only then could they hope to lessen the odds against them by attempting to “divide and conquer” the security force on the yacht.

And since both Michael and Robin were the
“red flag” and too likely to be recognized by either Sutton or his crew, they were more or less forced to remain several miles from the islands—and wait.

“What about Sutton?” Robin asked suddenly. They were both on deck, shaded from the ten o’clock sun by an awning, and neither was handling the waiting very well.

Michael didn’t need the question clarified. Gazing off toward the islands with restless eyes, he said, “If Sutton isn’t on the yacht physically, there isn’t much chance of building a case against him in court. We couldn’t prove ownership of the yacht, and unless the girls identify him as being in charge …”

“Do you think they will?”

“I don’t think Sutton’s given them the chance to see him.”

“What about Lisa?”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. He’s too cautious for that.”

“Then he’ll get away with it?” Robin regretted
the question the instant she saw Michael’s jaw tighten.

“No.”

In the steadiest voice she could manage, she said, “You’ll go after him yourself. Once Lisa and the others are safe?”

“One way or another,” Michael said softly, “Sutton’s going to pay for what he’s done.”

Shying away from what that might mean, Robin changed the subject. “You were very surprised Dane involved himself. Raven seemed to be as well.”

Michael shrugged slightly. “From what I know of him—and what Raven obviously knows—it’s a bit out of character. I’ve seen him turn in performances worthy of awards, but he tends to avoid other people’s problems.”

“He’s certainly not avoiding this problem. Maybe he’s more of a friend than you thought.”

“Or maybe he has his own reasons.”

Robin felt a pang. “You don’t trust easily.”

He was silent.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

After a long moment he said roughly, “Yes.”

“Why does that disturb you so much? That you trust me? Because trust leaves you vulnerable?”

“I don’t think we want to get into this,” Michael said.

It had been a mistake, Robin realized, for her to have remained with him. Teddy had suggested that she might want to head back toward the Maze with them, remaining in the cabin of the larger cruiser. But Robin had refused with a slight shake of her head, and Michael had said nothing.

She should have gone with them. The tension of waiting, added to the tension already present between her and Michael, left them both with precarious control. And they were too alone, too conscious of each other. That he had the self-awareness to warn her off from unstable emotional ground was remarkable; Robin felt herself lacking in that awareness at the moment.

“I always did have lousy timing,” she murmured at last.

Michael stirred slightly, but still didn’t turn and look at her. “Robin …”

“No, it’s all right. The waiting’s getting to me, I guess. And when I’m nervous, I ask questions. Sorry.”

Michael was trying. He was trying to ignore the building desire he felt for her, trying to fight the tangle of emotions that everything inside him mistrusted. But he had to warn her, had to make her understand. She hadn’t been in a situation like this, and couldn’t know how easy it was to allow the circumstances to dictate far too much.

He turned his head finally, looking at her. “I’ve seen it happen before,” he said.

“What?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Situations like this.” His voice sounded curiously suspended, caught somewhere between control and chaos. “So many negative elements. Tension. Danger. Anxiety. Events that are impossible to control or influence. Time … dragging one minute and racing the next. Living on a knife-edge. And that’s a hell of a place to—”

“To what?”

Sitting two feet away from her, expressionless, Michael answered quietly, “To fall in love.”

For a moment Robin couldn’t breathe. And her own voice was low and rushed. “That isn’t it.”

“No?”

“No.” She tried to steady her voice, tried to deny what he had seen, what he had guessed. “It’s just chemistry, and everything that’s happened makes it feel—seem—stronger than it really is. But—”

He interrupted her, his voice still quiet. “As I said, I’ve seen it happen. Again and again, against all reason. Two people thrown together in a situation boiling with negative emotions, the worst possible foundation for love. No time to stop to think, just a compulsion.”

“It isn’t real,” she whispered.

“It’s always real, Robin. But it rarely lasts.”

She realized, then, what he was telling her. “And that’s the long shot you won’t bet on.”

He glanced off toward the distant islands for a
moment, then looked back at her. “We’ll all come out of this with scars, Robin. You, me, Lisa, those other girls—even your friends and Dane. We’ll all be different, marked somewhere inside. Situations like this always mark you. It may not show on the surface, but each of us will know it’s true. And it doesn’t matter whether we win or lose. We’ll all be
changed
.”

He drew a deep breath, released it slowly. “And believing that love born in turmoil will last … is inviting another kind of scar. The kind of scar that probably wouldn’t ever heal.”

Robin, realizing, said, “It’s happened to you before.”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

He wasn’t ready to talk about it, she realized. If he ever would be. It was Robin’s turn to draw a steadying breath. “Part of me understands what you’re saying. But part of me doesn’t. I don’t hedge bets.”

“Don’t you?” Michael smiled just a little, adding gently, “You hedged the biggest bet of your life.”

“No.” She didn’t want to hear what he was about to say, but there was nowhere to run.

“Becoming a cop, Robin. You didn’t trust yourself, didn’t trust your ability to control your fear. And you failed the exam.”

“I tried,” she said tightly. “I did my best.”

“Be honest with yourself. If you had failed because you really didn’t want to be a cop, you wouldn’t be involved in this situation now.”

Robin looked away, unable to meet his steady gaze. “Neat change of subject,” she said, admitting nothing.

“I don’t think so. How many times in the past have you become attracted to some kind of cop?”

She felt her throat tighten, tension build. “So that’s where you’re going with this,” she said. “You’re saying this between us is even more unreal because I’m in the habit of falling for cops. Do you specialize in armchair analysis?”

“I specialize in survival,” he said softly.

She knew that was true; despite the present situation, Michael was indeed a survivor. He
wouldn’t have lasted past his first assignment in this business otherwise. And even though she
did
understand why he was refusing to give in to the needs and emotions between them, it hurt too much for her to be able to ignore the pain and accept his rational doubts.

He had been right about her past involvement with cops, but she knew with a certainty she’d never felt before that these feelings were different. Without the illusion of a “superman,” a nerveless, fearless superior being standing between them, she had no doubts about her own feelings. And though his mistrust of the longevity of fragile emotions in a dangerous situation was all too reasonable, she really thought he was wrong about their chances. It was the wrong time and the wrong place, but the feelings were real.

Real—and he was going to ignore them.

If she let him.

She looked up to find him gone, and after a moment rose and went below. The door to the tiny bathroom was closed, and she heard the
shower running inside. So. He thought the discussion was over, an agreement reached. He believed she was as wary of hurts that left scars as he was himself.

And aren’t I?

It didn’t seem to matter. A compulsion, he said? Was that what she was feeling? Her fingers moved of their own volition, unfastening buttons; she shrugged off her blouse, nudged off the shoes, and slid the cutoff jeans down her legs.

They had hours, at least. Maybe at most. And she refused to allow a fear of scars to stop her. This time she intended to master at least one fear.

The cramped bathroom was filled with steam, and Robin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she remembered just how tiny the shower stall was. But she had gone too far to let logistics determine her course from here. Taking a deep breath, she pulled aside the curtain and slipped into the stall.

Michael turned immediately, so close that his arm brushed her breast and made both of them
inhale sharply. His eyes cut through the fog of steam, sweeping down her naked body.

“Robin, get out of here,” he said huskily.

She shook her head slowly, and deliberately stepped closer, her hands lifting to rest on his broad chest. The dark, wet hair covering his muscled flesh was a tactile delight, and her fingers stroked it compulsively. She hadn’t realized he would be so beautiful, but he was, and the sight of him moved her more than she would have believed possible. “I can’t do that,” she said.

He reached behind him to turn off the water, and the sudden silence was stark. “Robin—”

She rose on tiptoe, her arms sliding up around his neck, her body molding itself to his. And she could feel his instant response, feel the taut hardening of his body. His eyes were darkening, and a muscle leapt in his jaw. As if he couldn’t help himself, his arms went around her damp body.

“Damn you,” he whispered just before his lips covered hers.

As before, Robin felt the instant surge of heat, the wildfire running through her veins. Her heart had swelled in her breast, thudding frantically, and there was no strength in her legs. She felt his hands slide down to cup her buttocks, pulling her even more firmly against him, and sounds she didn’t recognize tangled in the back of her throat.

He was taking her mouth, she realized dimly, possessing it, demanding it with a force she had never encountered before meeting him. But something in her answered that force once again, rising to meet it, surging up from deep inside her. It seemed almost a battle, a clash of wills, and she didn’t know what they were fighting against.

Or fighting for.

When he tore his lips from hers suddenly, Robin almost cried out in disappointment. But then Michael swept the shower curtain aside and guided her out of the cramped bathroom and to the cabin. Immediately he pulled her back
into his arms. His eyes glittered, and there was a bittersweet curve to his lips.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he said roughly.

Robin thought she was lost somewhere in his eyes, and the words escaped before she could stop them. “You were right. I love you, Michael.”