Last Chance To Run (15 page)

Chapter 23

Angel couldn’t believe her ears.

Zane owned that floating wreck in Slip 18?

The custom curtains were for
his
boat?

“Don’t look so shocked.”  Zane stood with hands on hips, grinning at her. “Pilots like the water, too. I plan to restore it. Bought it in Miami and hired a captain to bring it up here for me.”

Still, she was speechless.

Casting an admiring glance at his ark, he said, “I won’t be able to work on it for another couple of months, but she’ll be ship shape by next spring.”

Angel caught half of what he’d said.
Where
was that package of new canvas enclosures? This boat wasn’t anywhere near ready for side curtains.

Zane stared up at her expectantly.

She realized he was waiting for her to say something about the boat. “It’s, uh, nice.
Lot of potential, roomy.”

Right answer.
He grinned even wider. Like a man who’d won the lottery.

He’d need a big jackpot to make this thing into a usable watercraft.

Zane opened the cabin and stepped down into what appeared to be a living area.
“Stuffy in this cabin.”
  He opened small windows, pushed them out from the inside and lifted the hatch. She’d squatted down on the dock to watch him, hoping to see a brown paper package miraculously lying around in the open.

No such luck.

She stepped around on the walkway extension from the main dock that had been built between the slips. Putting her fisted hand against the sidewall of the hard top that covered the cockpit, she used it for support and jumped down onto the deck. At the cabin door, she found Zane digging through a small cabinet above a compact kitchen area. He pulled out two key rings, each with an orange plastic float attached.

She moved out of the way when he climbed out to the deck.

He stuck the keys into the dual ignitions then dropped down on one knee in the rear center of the deck to raise a hinged section. With a flip of his wrist, he switched a silver toggle.

After standing up he explained. “Have to switch the battery on.”

Sounded reasonable.
She had no clue what he was talking about, having
never been on a pleasure boat, but he said it with such authority she assumed he was correct.

Zane stepped over to the wheel, gripped the control handles mounted against the wall on his right and shoved them forward a couple times then returned them to the middle position. After several attempts, the right motor cranked with a throaty rumble. The left one started up on the first try, eliciting a triumphant grin from Zane.

Men and their toys.

He tinkered with the controls for a few minutes, then tapped one of the gauges and frowned.

She leaned in to see what concerned him.
“Something not working?”

He shook his head, more to himself than to her. “No, the problem is that it does work.”

“I don’t understand.”

Zane studied the dash. “These are the gas gauges. Both tanks are too low on fuel. I had a message from the captain that he ran into weather and arrived later than he’d planned, so he couldn’t fill it before docking. I can’t blame him, but I have to get it fueled soon.”

“Why? Are you taking it for a ride?”  If he went for a ride in this thing, low fuel should be the least of his worries.

A life jacket, flare gun, inflatable raft – those were items to be concerned about.

“No, it’s for safety,” he continued. “An empty tank is more dangerous than a full one. Gas fumes combust quicker than solid fuel.”  When he’d finished running the engines, Zane returned the keys to their hiding spot.

Leaving the ignition keys
onboard
the boat amazed her. Attitudes in Florida appeared a lot more trusting than in New York or Raleigh.

“I forgot to grab the new bow lines from the truck and I need to see the manager. You ready?”  He stood next to the side offering his hand to help her back onto the dock.

She caught herself before “no” popped out of her mouth. “I’d like to wait here, if it’s okay with you. I’ve never spent any time around boats, especially like this one.”  That was basically true since the closest she’d ever come to boating was riding a ferry.

Zane eyed up and down the dock, but few crafts remained in port on the beautiful day. “Promise me you’ll stay right here.”

“Of course.”

He appeared doubtful, but glanced around then left. Even she realized it would be hard for her to get away without him seeing her.

As soon as Zane stepped off the end of the dock onto the parking lot, Angel scrambled below to dig through cabinets and drawers. The air in the cabin smelled of mildew. Thank goodness he’d opened the windows and hatches.

The coins had to still be hidden in the boat curtains or the curtains would be installed and Zane would have figured out that she was the one who’d hidden them.

She searched through shelves above four flat cushions put together like a puzzle to create a bed that ran wall to wall. The nautical pattern on the tattered covers had faded severely in the center area where sun had burned through the hatch when it was open.

When she heard Zane moving around up top, she quickly shifted her search to the drawers where she could claim curiosity if caught. He could see through the open hatch. She dug through odd lures, matches in a watertight capsule and several sets of sunshades in two drawers.

A cabinet below the tiny sink held rags, a rusty battery-operated light that didn’t appear operable, rolls of clear line and a green plastic divided container full of assorted hooks.

The boat rocked slightly toward the narrow walkway that extended off the main dock and ran between boats. Zane must have stepped off to tie ropes.

She spun back to the bed to find out if anything was beneath those cushions. 

She’d just discovered individual compartments when she
heard,
“Make yourself at home.”

Angel swung around to face Zane standing at the top of the steps to the cabin. Her heart took a hit on that one. How had he gotten back on the boat so quietly and without rocking it?

“Sorry, I was just curious.”  She sucked in a deep breath. Nope, that didn’t calm her one bit. “There’s so much stuff in here. Did the boat come with all this...?”

“Tackle?”

Junk
had been her next word, but she nodded.

“The last owner left some of it there.
Normal with a cabin cruiser this old.
The rest I stocked the other day when I got back from Jacksonville.”

That had to mean he’d brought the boat curtains here, but asking him about that package would be all he’d need to start asking her questions.

He was still watching her. She glanced around the cabin, nodding. “
Boy,
is there a lot of storage in here.
Amazing.
You really picked a good
one.” 

Zane’s narrowed eyes had her thinking he didn’t quite buy the act, but he didn’t challenge her. “I’ll change out the bow lines and we’ll go.” 

Now?
What the heck had he been doing before?

Light showered back through the door once his massive body shifted out of the way. She could hear him shuffling around, and decided she’d be better served to wipe off anything she touched and come back alone later to dig through the boat.

Leaving with the knowledge the coins might be within reach strained the limits of her patience. As a child she’d been impatient, but twelve months in a jail cell had taught her diligence. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to escape Mason had paid off and, so far, his men hadn’t captured her.

She’d wait for her chance, but she
would
get those coins back.

Her life depended on it.

Would they be safe here?

You didn’t find them
. Good point.

Out on the deck, Angel found Zane waiting for her on the walkway that ran alongside the boat. He reached down to give her a hand up. Their gazes locked when he caught her upper arms and lifted. His strength amazed her when she practically flew up into his arms.

Tall, with a thin athletic body, Angel had never thought of herself as even remotely petite, but sometimes Zane made her feel as though she were delicate.

Like now.

Her feet barely touched the dock. She wrapped her fingers around his waist.

His hands moved to rest on her shoulders, softly rubbing her tight muscles. Dark eyes turned black with desire the longer he stared at her.

Standing so close to him, her body ignored all input from her mind. His arms slid down around her back. She leaned into the embrace, unable to resist the comfort offered. With a little pressure, he raised her up until she stood on her toes.

She held her breath anticipating another sensual kiss.

He had that look that said he was going to do it then ... at the last second, he dropped a quick peck on her forehead and loosened his grip to go.

Damn him. She refused to be dismissed so easily and held on. She lifted up and nipped his lower lip. Her fingers crawled up his back until
she pulled them together. 

He growled, teetering on the edge of a decision,
then
kissed her.

And no question that he meant it. No teasing. He went in for the kill. Her heart beat hard enough to explode. His tongue tangled with hers in a fevered volley.

He held her close and cupped his palm against her face, holding her exactly where he could destroy any resistance with his mouth.

One notion chased through her mind.

If he apologized for this, she’d push him overboard.

She was vaguely aware he’d moved from her mouth to her ear, but she knew exactly where his hand was when his palm skittered over her breast. Her knees threatened to buckle.

She moaned.

He cursed.

Something splashed the water in the empty slip behind Zane. The world came back into focus too soon.

His hand disappeared from where he’d touched her. His lips had stilled and all the wonderful sensations shooting through her ended abruptly.

Glaring up into his mahogany eyes, she warned, “Don’t you dare apologize if you value your
life.
”

He said nothing, just let out a long sigh.

She braced herself for whatever annoying response he’d have this time.

A feral smile spread across his face. “What am I going to do with you?”

She had a few suggestions if he couldn’t come up with any. Angel lifted her chin in a silent challenge.

He shook his head. “You have no idea how close you are to real danger. Let’s go before you find out.”

She released an exaggerated breath for his benefit.

He kissed her quickly then grabbed her hand, led her up the dock and loaded her in the truck. As Zane cranked the truck, she noticed the large rope still piled in the back.

“You forgot to get one of your ropes,” she mentioned.

“That’s for the anchor. I’m not changing it today. That takes a while.”

They left the marina heading in the direction of his apartment. This time she wasn’t traveling by a bus on an indirect route, which allowed her to make note of the quickest way back to the marina. Thanks to her marathon and triathlon training, she had the ability to quickly pick up directions and landmarks.

Warm air off the blistering pavement blew through her open window as Zane weaved through thick Labor Day weekend traffic.

With her arm outside the window, she waved her hand against the force of the air, enjoying a childhood practice. Her eyes roamed over the passenger side mirror. A beer truck followed Zane’s pickup then she saw a dark sport utility swing a little wide behind a van four cars back.

Hair stood up along her neck. A gut feeling triggered her antennae for danger. Traffic slowed to a stop. She got a better view of the suspicious vehicle when Zane moved his pickup over to the left lane.

The make was a Yukon, not a Land Rover.

Paranoia must have her imagining that every dark sport utility followed her. But when she noticed the vehicle sliding over into Zane’s lane in what appeared to be a late decision, her heart began to pound against her chest.

No other cars moved in the two lanes to her right. Heavy traffic chugged forward moving a few feet at a time, clogging the flow of vehicles through the massive intersection.

What would be the point of jockeying across lanes?

The driver could just be antsy, but what if she was right? Would someone dare to walk right up to the truck while she sat caught in the traffic jam?

Zane moved into the left turn lane.

She watched the side mirror.

The navy blue Yukon was now two cars back – just entering the turn lane, too.