The Reef (32 page)

Her stomach roiled as she watched him stoically yank the pen from his cheek. The puncture was small but deep, and blood ran. Her only regret was that she'd missed the eye.

Without a word he clamped her arm and dragged her out on deck.

VanDyke was waiting. It was brandy this time. Glass-shielded candles glowed prettily on a table beside a bowl of dewy fruit and a fluted plate offering delicate pastries.

He had changed into formal evening attire to suit the celebration he planned. Beethoven's
Pathétique
flowed subtly from the outdoor speakers.

“I had hoped you might avail yourself of the wardrobe in your stateroom. My last guest left rather hurriedly this morning and neglected to pack all of her belongings.” His brow lifted when he saw his steward's bloody cheek.

“Go to the infirmary and have that dealt with,” he said impatiently. “Then come back. You never cease to surprise me, Tate. What did you use?”

“A Mont Blanc. I wish it had been you.”

He chuckled. “Let me give you a logical choice, my dear. You can be restrained or drugged, both of which are distasteful. Or you can cooperate.” He saw her glance involuntarily toward the rail and shook his head. “Jumping overboard would hardly be productive. You have no gear. One of my men would be in the water in moments to bring you back. You wouldn't make it fifty yards. Why don't you sit?”

Until she could formulate a better plan, she saw no point in defying him. If he drugged her, she'd be lost.

“Where did you find LaRue?”

“Oh, it's amazingly easy to find tools when you can pay for them.” He paused a moment to choose the perfect glossy grape.

“A study of Matthew's shipmates showed LaRue to be a likely candidate. He's a man who enjoys money and the transient pleasures it buys. To date, he's been a good if occasionally expensive investment.”

He paused, eyes half closed in pleasant relaxation, and swirled his brandy.

“He kept close tabs on Matthew aboard ship, was able to develop a friendship with him. Through LaRue's reports I was able to determine that Matthew continued to keep contact with your parents, and that he never quite gave up the idea of finding Angelique's Curse. He knew where it was, of course, always, but he'd never tell LaRue where. Even friendship has its limits. He'd boast of it, but never drop his guard enough to tell the tale.”

VanDyke chose a second dark purple grape from the bowl. “I do admire that. His tenacity and his caution. I wouldn't have thought it of him, holding onto the secret all these years, working like a dog when he could have
lived like a prince. Still, he slipped when he resumed his partnership with your parents, and you. Women often cause a man to make foolish mistakes.”

“Firsthand experience, VanDyke?”

“Not at all. I adore women, much in the same way I adore a good wine or a well-played symphony. When the bottle is done, or the music over, one can always arrange for another.” He smiled as Tate tensed. The boat had begun to move.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far. A few degrees east. I'm expecting a show, and I want a closer seat, so to speak. Have a snifter of brandy, Tate. You may feel the need for it.”

“I don't need brandy.”

“Well, it's here if you change your mind.” He rose and crossed to a bench. “I have an extra pair of binoculars. Perhaps you'd like them.”

She snatched them, rushed to the rail to scan east. Her heart leapt when she found the dim outline of the boats. There were lights glowing on the
New Adventure,
another holding steady on the bridge of the
Mermaid.

“You must realize if we can see them, they'll be able to see us.”

“If they know where to look.” VanDyke stepped beside her. “I imagine they'll scan this way eventually. But they're going to be very busy shortly.”

“You think you're clever.” Despite her best efforts, her voice broke. “Using me to lure them here.”

“Yes. It was a stroke of luck well used. But now plans have changed.”

“Changed?” She couldn't stop staring at the lights. She thought she saw movement. A tender? she wondered. Cutting away toward shore. LaRue, she thought with a sinking heart, taking the amulet to some hiding place.

“Yes, and I believe the change is imminent.”

The excitement in his voice shivered over her skin. “What are you—”

Even at nearly a mile's distance, she heard the blast. The lenses of the binoculars exploded with light, dazzling
her shocked eyes. But she didn't look away. Couldn't look away.

The
Mermaid
was engulfed in flames.

“No. No, God. Matthew.” She'd nearly leapt over the rail before VanDyke yanked her back.

“LaRue is efficient as well as greedy.” VanDyke wrapped a wiry arm around her throat until her frantic struggles drained into wild weeping. “The authorities will do their best to piece it together, what there is left to piece. Any evidence they find will indicate that Buck Lassiter, in a drunken haze, slopped gas too near the engine, then carelessly lit a match. As there's nothing left of him, or his nephew, there will be no one to dispute it.”

“You were going to get the amulet.” She stared at the fire licking at the dark sea. “You were going to get it. Why did you have to kill him?”

“He would never have stopped,” VanDyke said simply. The flames dancing toward the sky mesmerized him. “He stared at me over his father's body, with knowledge and hate in his eyes. I knew then that one day this would come.”

The pleasure of it shivered through him like wine, iced and delicious. Oh, he hoped there had been pain and understanding, even only an instant of it. How he wished he could be sure.

Tate sank to her knees when he released her. “My parents.”

“Oh, safe enough, I imagine. Unless they were onboard. I have no reason at all to wish them ill. You're terribly pale, Tate. Let me get you that brandy.”

She braced a hand on the rail, leveled herself up on her trembling legs. “Angelique cursed her jailers,” she managed. “She cursed those who had stolen from her, who persecuted her and cut off the life of her unborn child.”

Fighting to speak over her shuddering breaths, she watched his eyes in the glow of candlelight. “She'd have cursed you, VanDyke. If there's any justice for her, and power left, the amulet will destroy you.”

There was a chill around his heart that was fear and
deadly fascination. With the flickers of the distant fire behind her, grief and pain dark in her eyes, she looked powerful and potent.

Angelique would have looked so, he thought, and lifted the brandy to his suddenly icy lips. His eyes were almost dreamy on Tate's. “I could kill you now.”

Tate gave a sobbing laugh. “Do you think it matters to me now? You've killed the man I love, destroyed the life we would have had together, the children we would have made. There's nothing else you can do to me that matters.”

With the grief trapped inside her, Tate stepped forward. “You see, I know how she felt now, sitting in that cell waiting for morning, waiting to die. It was anticlimactic really, because her life had ended with Etienne's. I don't care if you kill me. I'll die cursing you.”

“It's time you went back to your cabin.” VanDyke lifted tensed fingers. The steward, his cheek neatly bandaged, stepped out of the shadows. “Take her back. Lock her in.”

“You'll die slowly,” Tate called as she was led away. “Slowly enough to understand hell.”

She stumbled into her cabin and collapsed weeping onto the bed. When the tears were dry and her heart empty of them, she moved to a chair to watch the sea and waited to die.

S
HE SLEPT FITFULLY
and dreamed.

The cell stank of sickness and fear. Dawn sneaked stealthily through the barred window, signaling death. The amulet was cold under her stiff fingers.

When they came for her, she rose regally. She would not disgrace her husband's memory with cowardly tears and pleas for mercy that would never be granted.

He was there, of course. The count, the man who had condemned her for loving his own son. Hot greed, lust, an appetite for death gleamed in his eyes. He reached out, dragged the amulet over her head, slipped it over his own.

And she smiled, knowing she had killed him.

They bound her to the stake. Below, the crowds gathered to watch the witch burn. Eager eyes, vicious voices. Children were held up to afford them a better view of the event.

She was offered a chance to renounce, to pray for God's mercy. But she remained silent. Even as the flames crackled beneath, bringing heat and dazing smoke, she spoke no word. And thought only one.

Etienne.

From fire to water, so cool and blue and soothing. She was free again, swimming deep with golden fish. There
was such joy her eyes teared in sleep and she had drops slipping down her cheeks. Safe and free, with her lover waiting.

She watched him swim effortlessly through the water toward her, and her heart almost burst with happiness. She laughed, reached out for him, but couldn't close the distance.

They broke the surface, feet apart, into air perfume sweet. The moon wheeled overhead, silver as an ingot. Stars were sparkling jewels displayed on velvet.

He climbed up the ladder of the
Mermaid,
turned and held out a hand for her.

The amulet was a spot of dark blood on his chest, as a wound drained from the heart.

Her fingers reached for his an instant before the world exploded.

Fire and water, blood and tears. Flames rained out of the sky and plunged into the sea until it boiled with heat.

Matthew.

His name circled her mind as she stirred in sleep. Lost in dreams and grief, she didn't see the figure creeping silently toward her, or the glint of the knife in his hand as the moonlight struck the blade. She didn't hear the whisper of his breath as he came close, leaning over the chair where she slept.

The hand clamped over her mouth shocked her awake. Tate struggled instinctively, her eyes going wide as she saw the silver gleam of the knife.

Even knowing it was futile, she fought, vising her fingers over the wrist before the blade could slash down.

“Be quiet.” The harsh whisper hissed next to her ear. “Goddamn it, Red, can't you even let me rescue you without an argument?”

Her body jerked and froze. Matthew. It was a hope too painful to contemplate. But she could just make out the silhouette, smell the sea that clung to the wet suit and dripped from the dark hair.

“Quiet,” he repeated when her breath sobbed against his muffling palm. “No questions, no talking. Trust me.”

She had no words. If this were another dream, she
would live in it. She clung to him as he led her out of the cabin, up the companionway. Shudders racked her like earth tremors, but when he signaled her to climb over the side, she did without question.

Clinging to the base of the ladder was Buck. Under that ingot moon, his face was white as bone. In silence, he hitched tanks over her shoulders. His hands trembled as hers did as he helped her with her mask. Beside them Matthew hooked on his own gear.

And they dived.

They stayed close to the surface to use the moonlight as a guide. A flashlight would mark a trail Matthew knew they couldn't risk. He'd been afraid she'd be too frightened to handle the dive and the demanding swim, but she matched the pace he set stroke for stroke.

It was nearly four miles to where they had moved the
New Adventure.
There were squid and other night feeders, spots of color, blurs of movement in the shadowy sea. She never flagged.

He could have fallen in love with her for that alone, for the dogged way she swam, her hair and clothes floating around her, her eyes dark and determined behind her mask.

From time to time he checked his compass, corrected their course. It took more than thirty minutes of steady strokes to reach the boat.

Tate surfaced, fountaining water.

“Matthew, I thought you were dead. I saw the
Mermaid
explode and I knew you were on it.”

“Doesn't look like it,” he said lightly, but supported them both gratefully as she held onto him. “Let's get you on deck, Red, you're shaking pretty bad, and your mom and dad are crazy with worry.”

“I thought you were dead,” she said again and sobbed as she crushed her mouth to his.

“I know, baby. I'm sorry. Buck, give me a hand with her.”

But Ray was already reaching over the side. His eyes, wet with relief, roamed over his daughter as he hauled up the tanks. “Tate, are you hurt. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. I'm fine,” she said again as Marla reached down to take her hand. “Don't cry.”

But she was crying herself when her mother embraced her. “We were so worried. That horrible man. That bastard. Oh, let me look at you.” Marla framed Tate's face, nearly smiled before she saw the bruising. “He hurt you. I'm going to get you some ice, some hot tea. You sit down, honey, and let us take care of you.”

“I'm all right now.” But it felt wonderfully good to sink onto the bench. “The
Mermaid
—”

“It's gone,” Ray said gently. “Don't worry about that now. I want to take a good look at you, see if there's any shock.”

“I'm not in shock.” She sent Buck a grateful smile when he wrapped a blanket over her shoulders. “I need to tell you. LaRue—”

“At your service, mademoiselle.” With a jaunty smile, he came out of the galley with a bottle of brandy.

“Sonofabitch.” Fatigue, fear and the fogginess of shock snapped clear. With a snarl she was on her feet and leaping. Matthew barely caught her before she could sink nails and teeth into LaRue's face.

“Did I tell you?” LaRue shivered and drank the brandy himself, straight from the bottle. “She'd have clawed my eyes out if she'd had the chance.” He tapped his free hand on the medicated scratches scoring his cheek. “Another inch north and I would be wearing a patch, eh?”

“He's working for VanDyke,” Tate spat out. “He's been VanDyke's worm all along.”

“Now she insults me. You give her the brandy,” he said, shoving it into Ray's hand. “LaRue, she'd hit over the head with it.”

“I'd tie you to the stern and use you for chum.”

“We'll talk about that later,” Matthew suggested. “Sit down, take a drink. LaRue isn't working for VanDyke.”

“He only pays me,” LaRue said cheerfully.

“He's a traitor, a spy. He blew up your boat, Matthew.”

“I blew up my boat,” Matthew corrected. “Drink.” He all but poured a shot of brandy down her throat.

She sputtered, and the heat hit her stomach like a fist. “What are you talking about?”

“If you'd sit and calm down, I'll tell you.”

“You should have told her, and all of us, months ago,” Marla said testily as she bustled out with a steaming mug. “Here's some soup, honey. Did you eat?”

“Did I—” In spite of everything, Tate began to laugh. It was only when she couldn't seem to stop that she realized it was borderline hysteria. “I didn't care much for the menu.”

“Why the hell'd you waltz off with him?” Matthew exploded. “A half a dozen people saw you get into his tender without a murmur.”

“Because he said he'd have one of his men kill you if I didn't,” she shot back. “He had another right outside the boutique where Mom was.”

“Oh, Tate.” Shaken all over again, Marla sank to her knees beside her daughter.

“I didn't have any choice,” she said, and between sips of hot chicken soup, did her best to fill them all in on the events that had taken place since VanDyke had found her.

“He wanted me outside,” she finished. “He even provided binoculars so I could watch the boat blow up. There was nothing I could do. I thought you were dead,” she murmured, looking up at Matthew. “And there was nothing I could do.”

“There was no way to tell you what was going on here.” Knowing no better way to soothe, Matthew sat beside her, took her hand. “I'm sorry you were worried.”

“Worried. Yes, I suppose I was a bit concerned when I thought pieces of you were floating on the Caribbean. And why did you blow up your boat?”

“So VanDyke would think pieces of me were floating on the Caribbean. He's paying LaRue an extra quarter mill for it.”

“I will enjoy collecting.” LaRue's cocky smile faded. “I apologize for not killing him for you when I found you on his boat. It was an unexpected turn of events. I didn't yet know you were missing. When I returned to tell Matthew, he was already making plans to get you back.”

“You'll excuse me if I'm confused,” Tate said coolly. “Have you or have you not been passing information about Matthew to VanDyke during this expedition?”

“Filtering information is more accurate. He knew only what Matthew and I chose for him to know.” Squatting on the deck, LaRue took the brandy bottle again. “I'll tell you the beginning. VanDyke offered me money to keep watch on Matthew, to become his companion and to pass along any salient information. I am fond of money. I am fond of Matthew. It seemed to me there was a way to take the first and assist the second.”

“LaRue told me months ago about the deal.” Matthew picked up the story, and the bottle. “Of course LaRue had already been collecting for what, about a year, before he decided to let me in on the arrangement.”

With a flash of gold, LaRue grinned. “Who is counting,
mon ami?
When the time was necessary, I shared with you.”

“Yeah.” To settle the stomach that had just begun to jitter in reaction, Matthew drank from the bottle. “We figured we'd play along, split the profit.”

“Seventy-five, twenty-five, of course.”

“Yeah.” Matthew shot him a sour look. “Anyway, the extra cash came in handy, and it did me a lot of good knowing we were bleeding it out of VanDyke. When we decided to come back after the
Isabella,
we knew we'd have to up the ante. And if we played it right, we'd harpoon VanDyke at the same time.”

“You knew he was watching us?” Tate said dully.

“LaRue was doing the watching,” Matthew corrected. “All VanDyke knew was what we wanted him to know. When you found the amulet, LaRue and I agreed that it was time to reel him in with it. Only it got a little complicated when he reeled you in first.”

“You kept this from me, from all of us?”

“I didn't know how you'd react, or even if you'd be interested in my personal agenda. Then things moved pretty fast. It seemed logical,” he decided with a lift of brow, “that the fewer people who were in on it, the better.”

“You know what, Lassiter?” She rose stiffly to her feet. “That hurts. I need dry clothes,” she murmured and stalked off to her cabin.

She'd no more than slammed the door when he was shoving it open again. One look at her face decided him. He flipped the lock.

“You put me through hell.” She slapped open her closet, yanked out a robe. “All because you didn't trust me.”

“I was playing it by ear, Red. I couldn't even trust myself. Look, it's not the first mistake I've made where you're concerned.”

“Hardly.” She fumbled to unbutton her wet shirt.

“And it won't be the last. So why don't we . . .” His words trailed off as she dragged off the shirt. There were purpling bruises on her arms and shoulders. When he spoke again, his voice was icily detached. “Did he put those marks on you?”

“Him and his ham-fisted henchman from hell.” Still simmering, she peeled off her slacks, shrugged into the robe. “I stabbed that Slavic robot with a hundred-dollar pen.”

He was staring at her face now, at the bruise along her cheekbone. “What?”

“I aimed for his eyes, but I guess I froze up. Put a damn good hole in his cheek. Scraped a few layers off LaRue, too. I suppose I should be sorry for that now. But I'm not. If you had told me—” She squeaked in painful surprise when Matthew lurched forward and wrapped her tight in his arms.

“Yell at me later. He put his hands on you.” Eyes fierce, he framed her face. “I swear to God he'll never touch you again.” He laid his lips gently on her cheekbone. “Never again.”

Strapping on control, he stepped back again. “Okay, you can yell now.”

“You know damn well you've ruined that for me, Matthew.” She reached out, let herself be folded in his arms. “I was so scared. I kept telling myself I'd get away, then I thought you were dead. It just didn't matter anymore.”

“It's okay. It's over now.” Lifting her, he carried her to the bed to cradle her. “When LaRue got back he told me how rough it was going on you. I never knew what it meant to be sick from fear until then.”

To comfort them both, he brushed kisses over her hair. “We were already working on springing you when LaRue came onboard. Buck and I would swim over, he'd handle the tanks and gear while I looked for you. I figure it might have worked, but LaRue made it easier.”

“How?”

“For one, he found out which cabin you were in before he left, and snagged one of the duplicate keys. In his defense,” Matthew added, “he was crazy at the thought that he had to leave you alone with that bastard.”

“I'll try to keep that in mind.” She heaved a long sigh. “You had a key. And here I was imagining you swinging onboard like a privateer. Kicking in doors with a knife between your teeth.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Nope, I've had enough excitement for the next fifty or sixty years.”