Eyes of Fire (23 page)

“Walk me, Jim?” Sukee asked sweetly.

“Sure thing.”

“The kids should be in bed, too,” Lew Walker said firmly.

“Dad….” Brad protested.

“It may be our last diving day,” Judy said quickly, and the Walkers said their good-nights.

The Emersons followed suit.

Sam thought that Joey Emerson watched Jim Santino as he followed the other man out.

“Well, then, I shall retire myself,” Avery Smith said.

“Guess we're all ready for bed, eh, sweetie?” Hinnerman asked Jerry, rubbing his fingers down her neck. Jerry seemed to grow even more pale.

“Is something wrong, Jerry?” Sam asked worriedly.

“Is there, sweetheart?” Liam asked.

“No,” Jerry said, shaking her head. “Everything is wonderful. Good night, Sam, Mr. O'Connor, Yancy. Do tell Jacques that dinner was wonderful.”

Sam had risen to say good-night. As Jerry North walked past her, Sam realized why she appeared so pale.

She was wearing too much makeup.

Trying to hide a growing bruise beneath her eye.

Sam followed the two of them out. “Jerry. Jerry!”

They stopped together.

“Are you sure you're all right? If you're not feeling well and don't, er, and don't want to disturb Liam, I can set up one of the rooms in the main house.”

“Thank you,” Jerry said as she looked at Liam and firmly put an arm around him. “I prefer being with—” she hesitated, then smiled and went on “—my man.”

Liam kissed her. “We're just fine, Sam. You go on back in to that man of yours.”

Feeling frustrated, Sam went into the house. Was Jerry's smile real? Had Liam been beating her? Some women just kept going back with a man no matter what.

Sam discovered that Adam was waiting for her at the door. Watching her.

“You can't run off alone,” he told her.

“I just walked them out.”

“You can't run off alone,” he repeated curtly. Then he inhaled deeply. “Come in. To the bar.”

Frowning, Sam let him lead her to the bar. Yancy was there, looking slightly ill.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded.

Yancy drew a finger to her lips, then made certain that the doors to the porch were tightly closed. She nodded toward the stairs.

Sam turned to look.

She gasped, so stunned she nearly passed out.

A man was coming down the stairs. A young man with soft brown longish hair, blue eyes and an overgrown beard. He was incredibly thin, but other than that, he looked no worse for wear.

He was a man she knew very well. A man who had caused her endless hours of torment.

Because she had thought he was dead.

But he wasn't. He was alive.

Alive and well and walking toward her.

“Sam,” he said.

He was alive! She gave a cry and streaked for him, throwing her arms around him.

He hugged her fiercely in return.

Shaking, she suddenly drew away from him. “You're alive. You're
alive.
We've been suffering all this time, and you're here. Alive and well. And you didn't try to contact us.”

“Sam, you don't understand,” Adam began from behind her.

“No!
You
don't understand!” she cried out. “This is—this is Hank. Hank Jennings. Hank! Damn you.” She hit Hank suddenly. Hit him again and again. Hank didn't defend himself. He let her hit him.

It was Adam who stopped her at last, capturing her arms, pulling her against him.

“You don't understand!” Sam lashed out. Hank was still staring at her, a sick look on his handsome face. “This is the man who supposedly disappeared. Who broke Yancy's heart, who worried me halfway into an early grave. This is Hank—”

“I know,” Adam told her.

She pulled away. “How the hell do you know? How do you always know everything all the time? How do you know—”

“Sam, please, if you would just calm down….” Yancy tried.

“How?” Sam demanded. “Damn you, how do you know?”

Adam glanced at Hank. “I know Hank because…he's my brother,” he said quietly.

Sam stared from one of them to the other. “What?” she demanded again, certain she hadn't heard correctly.

“He's my brother. Half brother, baby brother.”

“But—”

“It's the truth, Sam,” Hank said wearily.

Sam took a step forward. This time she took a swing at Adam. He didn't stop the first blow, or the second. Then he caught her wrists, saying, “Sam…”

“I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I am sick of whatever game you horrible people are playing. I hate you, Hank, and I swear to God, I
despise
you, Adam. You're a pair of bloody bastards, and the sharks should have taken you both!” she cried.

She turned and burst through the doors from the bar to the porch, determined to leave with all the swift, sure, no-nonsense speed of light.

“Sam!” she heard Adam roaring.

She didn't care. She started to run. Not toward her cottage; that was the way he would expect her to go.

Instead she ran toward the docks, almost blinded by the tears that sprang into her eyes. What the hell were they trying to do to her?

He'd known!
It was obvious, Adam had known all afternoon that Hank was there, and he'd known Hank all along. He hadn't come to the island to help her; he'd come because Hank was his brother. And he'd probably made up everything he'd ever said about loving her because, just like everyone else, the only thing he wanted was the
Beldona.

Furious, hurt beyond measure, she ran across the lawn.

And that was when the dark figure stepped out from the bushes.

All in black from head to toe.

Black ski mask.

Black turtleneck. Black shoes.

Black cloth. Saturated in chloroform.

“No!” She had a chance to shriek the single word, but then the cloth was over her face. She tried not to breathe.

But she had been running.

She had to breathe.

She struggled. Fought the arms that held her. Kicked, fought…

But she had to breathe.

Soon her arms ceased to flail. She couldn't kick.

And, like the figure attacking her, the world around her faded, blurred and deepened….

Until it, too, was totally black.

“W
ell, we certainly handled that well, didn't we?” Yancy murmured dryly, looking from Hank to Adam.

Adam stared at his brother. “I should have told her.”

“I thought she'd be happy I was alive,” Hank said miserably.

Yancy lowered her head, smiling slightly. “You came through my window and nearly gave me a heart attack. We should have realized that Sam was going to have a similar reaction.”

“She's just as mad at me as she is at Hank,” Adam said.

“Obviously,” Yancy agreed. “You two have gotten pretty close again in the past few days. She probably thought you came back because of her. Now she realizes that not only did you and Hank keep your relationship from her, you knew that Hank was here and didn't tell her.”

“I didn't hold out on her when we met,” Adam said flatly. “I said that I had a half brother. And I had no idea he was alive myself until I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him in the water. Which I'm still trying very hard to understand myself!”

“Damn it, Adam, if I knew more myself, don't you think I'd share the information? I'm the reader, remember? You were always the tough guy, the one who became the cop. I just wanted to explain to Sam what had happened to me. Adam, none of this was my fault. I was kidnapped.”

Adam looked at him inquiringly.

“I found out that Justin went to the Steps the day he disappeared. Along with thinking that the
Beldona
was in that vicinity, he'd started to see activity out there. If he was right, others were heading for the location, and he needed to move quickly. Anyway, I was certain I'd figured out that the ship had to be around the drop-off somewhere, and that's where I was headed.”

“Diving alone,” Adam said.

“Well, that's rather beside the point right now, isn't it?” Hank asked. “Sweet Jesus, older brothers never do let you grow up, do they?” he said to Yancy with a smile.

“Hank….” Adam said, steering him back to the conversation.

“I was hit on the head. I woke up in what I thought was a damp basement. It seemed like I was kept in complete darkness forever. I was threatened daily to get me to talk about the ship. Water was kept from me. Food, too. I was stripped, left to lie on a concrete floor. I never saw my attackers. No one ever talked to me, except one man. His tone was always flat, no accent to his voice. He warned me to tell him what I knew about the ship or face torture, even death. Whoever it was eventually decided that I didn't know as much as he had thought originally, but that maybe I could be helpful.

“One day I was given back my clothes and fed, I was even given wine and beer. Things were passed to me through a little swing in the bottom of a barred wooden door. There was always one guard at the door, and he was always replaced at about five in the evening.

“One day, I was given research books and materials, some that I'd never seen before. I was told that I could be a free man as soon as I could guarantee that I could find the ship. I never believed that. I figured I'd be a dead man as soon as I discovered where the ship might be.

“Anyway, a few days ago, it seemed that I became much less interesting. No one came to ask me what I might have learned. When the new guard came to replace the old guard in the afternoon, I heard them whispering to each other outside the door. I couldn't hear everything, but they knew, Adam, that you'd come to Seafire Isle and that it might mess up some plans that were already under way here. Well, anyway, I'm not exactly the hero type. I'd never tried to bash down the door and kill the guards or anything. But I'd made a pet out of a rat, and he'd made a hole in the concrete. I spent months digging at that hole, and hiding it with the one blanket they'd given me. I managed to sneak out that night. I'd been in a warehouse on a river. I might have tried to reach the police, but there were men around the place, and I didn't know who might be a legitimate worker and who might be ready to slit my throat. There happened to be a nice little yacht at the dock in front of the warehouse. I stole it. I let the current take me downriver at first so that I could make a silent getaway. I realized I was on the Miami River, revved up the motor, and high-tailed it for the sea. I knew I had to get here, because you were here, and I had to see Yancy and Sam. Besides, I was afraid to trust anyone else.”

Adam felt a shiver rake through him. Hank was alive. He had to remember just to be grateful for that fact. He had always blamed himself for Hank's having come to the island. He'd never told him about his affair with Sam; he'd just told him about the diving.

And the
Beldona.

Hank's letters to him from the island had been filled with excitement. They'd described the diving, the house—and the dive mistress. The tragedy of Justin's disappearance—and the dive mistress. The assumption that his little brother had fallen in love with Sam had been half of what had sent him flying off to work in South America.

The determination to find either Hank or his killer had brought him to the island.

He stepped forward a little awkwardly, taking his brother in his arms. Adam's dad had been a cop, killed in action. Hank's father had lost a battle with cancer, and their mother had died seven years ago of pneumonia. Each was all the other had.

“I wish Sam had been willing to wait for an explanation,” Hank said. “I just couldn't step out in front of everyone. I took a boat out alone today with Yancy's help because I was praying I could find the answer before anything else happened. I was wrong. I need help. I need Sam. But I also need to stay hidden, because I know if I'm discovered here, I'm dead. Someone on this island is working for the same people who made my life hell for a year.”

“You're certain no one has seen you except for Yancy, Sam and me?”

Hank gave him an awkward grin. “And my baby. Adam, have you seen my baby? Isn't he beautiful?” Hank slipped an arm around Yancy, pulling her against him. “Even when I was gone, when she thought I was dead, she wanted my baby.”

“The baby is great,” Adam said huskily. He didn't want to tell his brother what a fool he felt, certain that Brian had belonged to Hank and
Sam
rather than Hank and Yancy. “I've got to find Sam, got to make her understand. Damn her, I was right about this. I couldn't tell her about Hank when he insisted he had to tell her himself.”

“Adam, whether you're right or wrong, what she feels right now is what matters. You've got to find a way to explain this to her,” Yancy said.

“Let me go after her,” Hank said. “And tell her that I was being held prisoner.”

“You can't go after her. You can't be seen, remember? Hank, it's imperative now that you be extremely careful. Fool. You should have come to me before you went diving.”

“I tried to go to Sam, and I would have come to you. I came out to talk to you both earlier, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, damn it, Adam, you were both busy—with each other.” Hank looked down, embarrassed.

“Oh, God!” Adam groaned. So Hank had tried to see Sam earlier. Instead, he'd seen…

“Hank, don't you think of leaving this house. You don't know who's working for the people who kidnapped you. You have to stay hidden here and try to think of anything at all that might help us, any little detail. Sam will understand once she's had a chance to talk to you.”

“Maybe I should go look for her,” Yancy said. “Talk to her.”

“Oh, God,” Adam said suddenly.

“What?” Yancy demanded.

“She's alone!” Adam hissed.

“We're on an island. Where can she go?” Hank asked.

“Oh, God, I'd forgotten!” Yancy breathed.

“Forgotten what?” Hank demanded.

“I told you that she'd been attacked!” Yancy said to Hank. “Adam—”

Adam was already heading out of the house. “Damn, but we are fools! Hide Hank, Yancy, he's in tremendous danger now. Sweet Jesus, she's alone!” He swore, swiftly following in Sam's wake. By the time he reached the porch, he was calling her name. By the time he reached the lawn, he was running, fear igniting inside him like wildfire.

What fools. Someone had surely just been waiting for them to make a mistake!

And they'd made it. Oh, God, they'd made it.

 

Water…

She could feel it. Not touching her, but around her. Rocking her. Her head was spinning painfully with the kind of spiraling sensation that made her afraid she was going to be sick.

As the whirling mire within her head began to subside, Sam realized that she was on a boat. She was feeling the rise and fall of the surf lifting the vessel, letting it fall again, lifting it once more.

She listened for the sound of a motor.

There was none.

She tried to open her eyes and realized that she was blindfolded.

She tried to move.

Her wrists were bound to something.

Oh, my God, Adam, what a fool I was to forget. Why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you trust me? Why did I get so angry at seeing Hank when I'm so happy he's alive? Why didn't I realize my danger even when I was ready to wring your neck? Do you really love me, Adam, or were you after something else all along?

Will it ever matter?

She swallowed hard. Adam wasn't here to help her. She would have to save herself.

She inhaled deeply, trying to remain calm, to keep some sense of reason. Trying to picture her position in her mind's eye. She was lying on her back, head slightly propped. Once the spinning subsided a little more, she could even appreciate the fact that her head was on a pillow. Her legs were free, stretched out on a boat bunk. She had the sensation of close confinement and imagined that the boat had to be some kind of sport vessel, somewhere between twenty and forty feet, with perhaps a master's and a guest cabin. The movement that rocked her made her think that she was in the aft of the boat—the guest cabin, perhaps? The bunk was center of the aft section, bolted down.

She struggled to free her wrists. She was bound with some material that wasn't rough, like rope, but that seemed even stronger than rope might be. The more she struggled, the tighter her bounds seemed to get.

“I tie good knots.”

The strange, husky whisper startled her. She went dead still, listening.

Breathing. Slow, easy, even breathing. Near her. Very near her.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The words should have been forceful, adamant. Show no fear, she told herself.

But, of course, she was terrified. And the words were neither forceful nor adamant. They were a bare whisper.

“Who the hell are you?” That was better. “Other than a complete ass, because you can't possibly get away with this.”

“I can, easily, because that storm is moving in much more quickly than you might imagine. And let's see…”

There was a sibilant hiss to the words. They were drawn out, spoken very low. Deep. They had an edge that seemed to creep right beneath her skin.

“Let's see…you fought with your lover, Miss Carlyle. Silly girl. So things aren't always perfect with the ex-cop. But he's a good lover, eh? Strong fellow. You should have stayed with him. He was trying very hard to protect you. But you know what, Miss Carlyle? The good guys don't always win.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” she asked stubbornly. Her throat was bone dry. She was afraid to move. She was shivering, and yet she was surely dripping sweat. Her arms were beginning to feel painfully numb. She was beginning to feel a rise of absolute hysteria, desperate to get the blindfold off her eyes.

“I want you to dive, Miss Carlyle.”

“Why?”

“To take me to the
Beldona.
”

“I don't know where she is.”

“I know you can find her.”

“I'm telling you, I don't know where she is.”

“Well, then, Miss Carlyle, you can find the ship, or you can rest with her. Do you understand?”

Sibilant laughter seemed to touch and surround her.

Fear crept along her spine. Like a crawling maggot. One maggot, two maggots, dozens of them….

“Who in God's name are you?”

“It doesn't matter. What matters is that you dive.”

“Dive—like my father?” she said. “Dive and wind up dead just the same? You can kill me now.”

No, no, no, she didn't mean that. She didn't mean that at all. In seconds she would start crying, begging for her life. She wanted to live. She wanted to run to the house and the bar. Maybe take another good swing at Hank, and then one at Adam. Then she would stand her ground. Find out just what was going on. Demand to know what had happened, who had known what, where Hank had been…

What Adam had known.