Bermuda Nights - The Boxed Set (13 page)

Book 2: Wine-Dark Dreams

Chapter 1

I have dreamt in my life,

dreams that have stayed with me ever after,

and changed my ideas;

they have gone through and through me,

like wine through water,

and altered the color of my mind.

-- Emily Brontë

Jeff and his five burly goons stormed into the mechanical room, water cascading down their bodies from the monsoon which hammered just outside the open door. Evan stepped before me in the same instant, his body shielding mine as I lay, stunned, against the metal floor. Then the door fell shut behind the last muscle-bound man and for a moment the only sound was the thrumming of the pipes along the walls.

Evan flexed his fingers, his body settling into a crouch as he scanned the opponents before him. “Jeff, this is between you and me. Let Amanda leave. I’ll face you on whatever terms you want.”

Jeff’s marble eyes shone in the fluorescent lighting of the room; he settled his brass knuckles firmly on his fingers. “Let her leave? This whole situation is her fault! It’s time she learned her lesson. If she’s going to dumpster-dive with trash like you, she’s going to be shown the consequences. Maybe that will teach her not to whore herself out ever again.”

His voice dropped into a snarl. “She belongs to me. I’ve been far too lenient with her. That ends now.”

I could see the ripple of anger course down Evan’s jaw, but when he turned to speak to me his voice was calm, almost soothing. “It’ll be all right, Amanda. See that trio of pipes on the back wall? Think you can wedge behind them?”

I pushed up to my feet, shivering. My t-shirt and sweats were soaked through; the frigid cold sapped my energy with every passing second. I carefully approached the large conglomeration of machinery. It took a moment, but I was able to wiggle past the metalwork and ensconce myself neatly behind a large rectangular grid of thick tubes. There was no way any of the men could reach in to me or fit in themselves.

Evan nodded in grim satisfaction. “You’ll be safe there. No matter what happens, in under an hour one of the ship’s mechanics will be up to make his rounds. You just stay put until then.”

My throat closed up. “Evan –”

Jeff’s voice was a high mimic of mine. “Oh, Evan, Evan.” He rolled his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Mandy baby. The first part of this will be quick. Then we’ll take some time drilling the lesson into his brain – and every other part of him. After that, I’m sure we’ll find some way to dig you out of there.”

Evan’s stance lowered, settled, and then it was as if he suspended, waiting.

Jeff’s brows lowered. He nudged his head at the pair of blonds who stood closest to the front. “All right, you two, grab his arms.”

The blonds looked like German wrestlers – beefy, dressed in t-shirts and jeans, their eyes lackluster. They dutifully stepped forward, their hands up before them, shielding and reaching.

Evan spun right, driving hard with his right fist into the man’s stomach. As the man collapsed forward, Evan followed up with a left uppercut, rocking the man’s head back. The blond flailed into the console, catching the corner of it deep in his shoulder blade.

His bellow of pain echoed across the room as Evan spun toward the other man. The man caught Evan’s right hook on his upper arm with a grunt, but Evan’s left fist flashed hard into the man’s ribs. There was a sharp cracking noise and the man collapsed down, clutching his side.

A freckled red-head blinked, shook his head, and stepped back. “I’m on vacation, man,” he called to Jeff. “You fight your own fights.” He grabbed the door handle and in another second he had fled.

Evan drew his eyes across the remaining three men. “And now we’re back to the three miscreants from the alley. It’s not going to turn out any different this time, boys.”

Jeff’s eyes flashed. “This time we’re sober, and we’re alert for your tricks,” he challenged. “You’ll never take us three on one when we’re ready for you. We work out at Boston’s finest gym two hours a day, with the best trainers money can buy.”

Evan gave a dry chuckle. “I grew up with three brothers,” he responded. “Our training was our daily brawls. If I could hold my own against the three of them – men who worked together as closely as any three humans could – then think of how easily I’ll take you three apart.”

His eyes shadowed. “Leave now. This isn’t worth it.”

Jeff’s jaw tightened. “That bitch is mine. As soon as we take care of you, she’s the one who will be taken apart.”

Evan nodded. “Your choice, then.”

He dove in.

I wrapped my arms around myself, my heart thundering against my chest. The flurry of punches and kicks, of blocks and groans, filled the room as if a tornado had touched down. Jeff was right – the trio was definitely more alert now. They were able to block, to land a solid blow to Evan’s upper arm, a kick against his thigh which staggered him back.

But Evan was a panther crossed with a prize fighter. He spun to keep his opponents within sight, ducking under a sweeping blow, sliding to barely avoid a haymaker. He grunted as Mikey’s foot connected with his calf, then launched himself with a flurry of blows to drive Mikey back into the wall. He barely dropped underneath a hard kick from the third man, spinning to drive his fist hard into the man’s groin.

I winced. Twice in a week. The guy would swear off cruising forever.

Then it was just Evan and Jeff. Evan attentively turned in place, with Jeff circling around the outside like a crazed circus lion ready to pounce. Blood dripped down Jeff’s left arm and he favored his left ankle as he moved. His teeth were bared in fury.

“Don’t you see, you drunken
Mick
, I bought her. I paid for her. I’m the one who wasted the past two years of my life paying for dinners at that brewery and driving out the tedious Pike haul to her parents in Lenox. I did my dues. Now she’s mine. She owes it to me.”

There was a ragged cut on Evan’s forehead, leaking a steady stream of blood down his cheek. His knuckles were raw and swollen. “Amanda is her own person. She doesn’t owe anything to anyone,” he corrected. “Your relationship with her is over. Finished.”

Jeff’s voice rose. “It’s finished when I say it’s finished!” He launched himself at Evan.

Evan grabbed Jeff’s outstretched arm, spun, and drove it down into the metal floor. There was a loud snapping noise.

Jeff’s scream shook the walls.

Then there was only the sound of their breath coming in and out, the groans and shudders of the men around them.

Evan knelt on Jeff, holding him against the ground, his fingers still wrapped around Jeff’s arm. His voice was a steel rasp. “If I hear that you came near Amanda again, if I hear you even spoke to her, then I will find you. I will hunt you down, and I will break each of your legs in three separate places. You will be in agony for months, and when you finally learn to walk again it will never be quite right. You’ll be a functional cripple for life.” He pressed on Jeff’s back. “Do I make myself clear?”

Jeff groaned. “You think you -”

Evan pressed down harder, driving Jeff’s face into the floor. “And if anything happens to me, remember that I have three loyal, hard-core, combat-worthy brothers who would face a zombie apocalypse for me. If you think what I have planned for you is bad, you haven’t seen the lair of the dragon.”

Jeff stilled at that.

At last a long, shuddering groan escaped out of him. “Fine,” he growled. “I don’t want the skank anyway. Who knows what diseases she has now. Probably crawling with AIDS and hepatitis. They should quarantine her for months before letting her back into the city.” He spat a bloody gob onto the floor. “I’ll be sure to let all our old friends know what a degenerate whore she’s become.”

Evan stood up, looking down at him for a long moment. “You stay away from Amanda. Or, I promise you, your life will be Hell. An inferno of searing flame with no horizon.”

Jeff closed his eyes, drawing his arm in beneath him.

Evan swept the room with his gaze, evaluating each fallen man in turn. Then at last he turned, looking to me. Electricity sang through me at the intensity of his gaze. His face was smeared with blood, there were rising bruises spotting both arms, and I was sure the rest of him was even worse.

But he was whole.

He held out his hand to me. I set into motion, wriggling my way fiercely through the pipes, racing to get to his side. He drew me behind his back, moving with me to the door. He called out to the room.

“I’ll send the doc up with his staff. You be smart and stay put until he gets here. Looks like all of you could use stitches, and some will need a bit more than that.” Then he pulled open the door, let me step through in front of him, and we were immersed in thundering rain under grey skies.

The door fell shut, and Evan groaned, closing his eyes. He leant back against the metal, his face as ashen as the billowing clouds.

Chapter 2

I looped my arm under Evan’s shoulder as he groaned in pain. My voice trembled. “We have to get you to a doctor.”

He shook his head, pushing back up to his feet. “Get me down to your room. The hospital here is small enough as it is, and they’ll have their hands full in a few minutes.”

I helped him along the walkway, the rain pummeling us both, and by the time we stepped into the quiet hallway we looked merely as if we’d been drowned in the wine-dark sea, not that he was bloodied and battered from a no-holds-barred fight. A few of our fellow passengers clucked in commiseration as we stepped into the waiting elevator.

Evan closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall of the elevator as the doors sighed shut. I stepped to him, and he drew me in, holding me as if I were the most fragile of eggs in a storm-tossed nest. His breath eased out of him in shuddering relief.

Time stood still.

I blinked at the ding, at the doors easing open. Luckily my room was only a few short, staggered steps down the hallway.

I pulled out my card from my pocket. There were no Mardi Gras beads hanging on the handle, but it was always wise to be sure. “Let me just check if she’s decent.”

He nodded, leaning back against the wall with a groan.

I slid in the card and pushed in the door. The bed was a tangled mess of sheets and blankets, but Kayla was nowhere in sight.

I looped my arm back beneath Evan and guided him across the minefield of high-heeled shoes and lace bras to have him sit on my bed. He dropped his head in his hands for a long moment, then gave his head a shake. He reached for the phone, punching a few numbers.

“Yeah, the Doc please. Doc? It’s me. I’ve got five patients for you up in the mechanical room by the smokestack. … Yeah … I’m fine … No, really this time … I’ll be … OK, I promise.” He reached over and hung up the phone.

The cut on his forehead had started up again; crimson drops spattered his jeans in quick succession. I took the three steps to the bathroom and emerged with an armful of towels and washcloths. “You are
not
fine.”

He took one of the washcloths and pressed it to his forehead. “You should have seen me back in high school, when my brothers and I went at it,” he countered. “These are kitten scratches in comparison.” He smiled, then winced as the motion pulled at his injury.

I crossed my arms across my chest. “And what did the doctor say?”

He gave a wry grin. “He made me swear to check over every inch of my body for injuries, just in case.”

I moved to stand in front of him. “All right, then. Arms up.”