Vortex (Cutter Cay) (16 page)

Worried about Annie and Dog, Logan got to his feet. Everyone appeared to be fine. No one had the cherry-red–tinged skin indicating a high level of carbon monoxide, no one was still puking, or exhibiting signs of poisoning. “Clearly he wanted it to look like an accident.”

“Question is,” Jed said grimly meeting Logan’s eyes, “did he mean to kill us, or was this a shot across our bow in retaliation for the South African lawsuit?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said grimly. “But I’m damn sure going to find out.”

Eight

If not for Logan, she’d be dead.

Daniela had thought the
Sea Wolf
would be the safest place for her to wait. She’d been deluding herself. Her idiot cousins must’ve decided not to allow Logan to get all the treasure up before stealing it. Maybe tossing her in the ocean had been a prelude to their plans to kill her, and leave no witnesses. She hadn’t believed they could pull something like this off.

How had they managed to sneak on board and target her cabin? Her mouth dried. Was it that specific? Maybe the entire ship was affected. What if someone else had been stuck in the cabin and was now seriously ill, or worse, dead? It was as bad as if …

Daniela went hot, then ice cold.

“Dear God.” Not her cousins at all.
“Victor?”
Had he found her after all? Had her sense of triumph at outwitting him been nothing but an illusion?

Panic flooded her system.

Dog yelped, and she realized her fingers were digging into his ruff as if she were hanging on for dear life. “Sorry, boy. OhGod, ohGod, ohGod.”

How had he tracked her down? Her mind unfroze, sending her thoughts spinning a mile a minute. “Calm down,” she ordered in a voice thin with fear. “The chances of the cousins skulking aboard are much higher than Victor finding me.” They were.

“I’m breathing,” she assured the dog, who stared up at her with worried golden eyes.

The cousins were the more logical threat. They might be out of sight, but she knew they’d be keeping a close watch on the
Sea Wolf
to claim what they believed was theirs.

The last place Victor’s people had seen her was Florida. A world away.

There was a third possibility. The gas leak had been an accident. Daniela let out a shuddering breath and crossed her fingers.

“Accidents happen every day, right, boy? Yes, they do.” She needed more information, and if it looked as though the cousins were responsible, it was her duty to inform Logan.

She wasn’t thinking beyond that. She couldn’t.

Daniela staggered to her feet, then wobbled her way through Logan’s dimly lit cabin. Guilt assailed her as she noticed her host’s huge bed, covers pushed onto the floor. She’d disrupted his life, his ship, his dive. Daniela winced, wondering if he thought the finding of
La Daniela
was a worthy trade for the trouble that had come with the information.

The décor of his spacious cabin, much like the rest on board, was predominantly black and white, his appreciation for color evident in the two massive paintings. One hung over his bed, the other over a stunning ultramodern glass gas fireplace on the opposite wall. Daniela was familiar with both artists.

She’d had a gallery show for Rosslyn Klinger last year. In fact, this very oil, of a deserted tropical beach, two pairs of wet footprints in the sand facing each other, and a discarded top of a blue bikini, had had pride of place in her gallery. It had sold to an anonymous buyer for a staggering amount. Logan Cutter. Wow. It was a strangely small world.

She went into her cabin, closed and locked the door, then went into the tiny bathroom and turned on the shower.

He’d chosen the bright young stars of the future, and he’d chosen very well. These two oversize pieces alone would be worth a fortune in a few years. He’d made sound investments. He was a very smart man.

The thought that the Klinger painting had once hung in her Washington, DC, gallery, and now, a year later, hung over Logan Cutter’s massive bed a world away, was chilling. She didn’t want the world to be this small. Especially while Victor was scouring the planet looking for her.

Still a little nauseous and dizzy, she forced herself to step into a cool shower until she regained her equilibrium.

Feeling considerably better, she dressed in record time, linen drawstring pants in an eye-popping pink and a white T-shirt. She called it good, then glanced in the mirror. Armor it wasn’t, but now she at least had on a bra, which beat walking around half-dressed.

“I have to warn him,” she said to her reflection.

Uncertainty flickered in the gaze staring back at her. “If what Wes said about him is true, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t throw me overboard for the whoppers I’ve told him.”

She gripped the counter and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.” And it was true. The more she moved, the better she felt. Physically, anyway. After she drank several glasses of water, the nausea abated, and she was no longer light-headed. “Good. At least I won’t fall over when I deliver the bad news to Cutter.” Whatever was going on with the rest of the ship was her business, too. She padded back through Logan’s cabin to check on Dog, even though she heard him snoring out on the balcony.

The animal lifted his head from his nest of blankets as she came outside and leaned over to rub between his ears. “It’s okay, Doofus. Go back to sleep.” The dog tilted his head as if trying to understand her, then snuffled, laid his nose on his paws, and closed his eyes.

Turning to the water, she curled her fingers around the smooth wood topping the Plexiglas half-wall, the wind lifting the damp strands of her hair around her neck and face. Lights from the various decks above and below reflected in the black water, and indistinct voices melted into the sound of the ocean slapping against the ship.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with ominous murmurs and whispered threats. Her paranoia was back with a vengeance. Damn it. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, she’d allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of calm, believing that the cousins wouldn’t make their move until Logan and his team had gotten all the treasure from the bottom of the ocean.

They’d barely waited forty-eight hours.

And to sabotage his ship?! Holy Mother of God. They were
insane.
When they’d thrown her into the pitch-dark ocean with nothing more than a life vest to keep her afloat until—
if
—someone on board the
Sea Wolf
discovered her, that had only been criminal stupidity.

But if they’d come on board Logan Cutter’s ship … She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed the goose bumps on her bare skin.

The situation was escalating, and she wasn’t sure what to do to stop it. Logan would most certainly ensure she was taken back to Lima, if she asked. She suspected he’d be more than happy to get rid of her, but that didn’t resolve anything.

Her cousins would hound Logan until they had what they believed was rightfully theirs.

And without money or resources, she’d be in a world of hurt alone in Lima. She just had to stay alive for two weeks. But was her life worth more than Logan’s, or his crew’s?

Trapped. Damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.

She was as tense as a bowstring, and rotated her shoulders to try and ease her knotted muscles. Daniela shivered as the chill permeated her entire body. It was so damned illogical of those idiots to come charging in before they knew what Cutter had found. Or if he’d found anything at all! How could they know one way or the other?

She and Logan had been lucky, but other people on board might not have been swooped up and taken into the fresh air. God forbid, someone could have been seriously harmed, possibly have
died
tonight because of her family.

Logan could probably use another pair of hands. Doing what, she had no idea. But if nothing else, she could make coffee. She turned away from the never-ending expanse of midnight water, and went through the billowing drapes, back into the dimly lit cabin.

The wood floors felt cool and smooth beneath her bare feet as she walked the perimeter of the room, stepping onto one of several soft, thick area rugs dotted about the dark floor. She picked up a smooth piece of jade from a shelf, running her thumb over it as she rambled, delaying the inevitable even while she knew that the faster she told Logan, the faster it would be over.

She had no idea how
he
reacted to bad news. God … There was nowhere to run on a boat in the middle of the Pacific. She was at his mercy. Damn it, she was sick of being a victim. Sick to death of being afraid. Sick of running.

Five more minutes and she’d go and find him. She was still a little queasy. Daniela let her gaze pause every now and then on something interesting. There were a lot of fascinating artifacts from his travels scattered about in a very deliberate way. He must have hundreds of interesting stories.

Not that she’d be around to hear them.

Please, God, let this be over in a couple of weeks.

Over, leaving what in its wake? The gallery was closed. Her disappearance had been explained by her frantic-with-worry fiancé as “mysterious and troubling,” her mental health put under a microscope. Victor was clever that way.

They’d never
been
engaged, and her disappearance had been far from mysterious. She’d fled the second she knew Victor would kill her before she testified. The fact that she was still very much alive, despite the hit man he’d sent to that cheap motel in Pensacola, must be very troubling for Senator Stamps. She hoped he’d be troubled right into prison.

And standing around delaying the inevitable wasn’t helping anyone. Dragging in a deep breath, she left Logan’s cabin, heading to the lower deck where she knew the men gathered in the evenings.

“Warn him and offer to leave.” She rolled her shoulders again and kept moving. One thing at a time. She bumped into Wes and Galt going down the stairs.

“Annie.” Wes touched a large hand to her shoulder, “Are you okay? Any nausea? Headache? Anything?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Was anyone else affected?”

“Not from the g—” Wes nudged Galt in the arm.

“Does Logan know you’re wandering about?” Wes gave her a worried frown as they reached the lower landing and heard the sound of voices.

“I’m a big girl. Capable of wandering on my own for some time now,” she told him dryly, giving his Hawaiian surf shorts an amused glance despite the tension roiling in her stomach. “Where’s he meeting everyone?”

“In there,” Galt told her, while he met Wes’s eyes over her head. “Maybe you should wait in your cabin? I’m sure Logan will fill you in when he’s got everybody’s reports.”

“I’m sure he will, but since I’m here.” She smiled as she looked up and up and up. Steve Galt must be at least six eight or nine, and had to stoop to get between sections of the ship. “I’ll save him some time.” She couldn’t wait, not for this.

They entered the room to find a group of men already gathered. Logan and Jed stood near the open doors talking quietly. Cutter wore black shorts. That was it. Black shorts. The man didn’t like clothes, apparently. And just as apparently it didn’t matter how many times she saw him half naked; the sight made Daniela’s mouth go dry and her heartbeat accelerate. The reaction had nothing to do with nerves.

As if he sensed her on the opposite side of the room, Logan’s head swiveled and their eyes met. He scowled.
Oh. Not a happy camper.
Daniela mouthed, “I have to talk to you.”

He shook his head even as he turned back to Jed and a crewman. They talked for several minutes, as more divers and crew came and went. The room hummed with a current that was palpable.

“I’ll go help Hipolito with coffee, sandwiches maybe…” she trailed off as Wes pointed to the buffet table by the open slider. Nobody seemed to have touched anything. “Never mind.” It had just been a delaying tactic, she knew.

“He’s right in the middle of this, Annie. Can’t it wait?” Wes said quietly. “Someone sabotaged
Sea Wolf,
and we’re trying to put all the pieces together.”

Wes was still talking, Daniela could see his lips moving, but all the sound in the room was muffled, as if she were hearing it underwater. Sabotage. So they
had
endangered everyone. It didn’t make her feel any better having her suspicions confirmed.

“I have a missing piece to his puzzle,” Daniela told him flatly, edging closer to Logan in the hope she could zip in and tell him what she had to tell him and then leave. She waited for him to finish talking to Cooper. But then another of the crew stepped in, and spoke with his hands. Logan scowled.

He turned back to Horner and they exchanged a few more words before the diver strode off. Everyone was strung tight, which didn’t help ease Daniela’s feelings of anger and guilt for the role she played in this. What she had to tell him wasn’t going to make him any happier, and after several minutes, she moved through the men clustered in the middle of the room. “Excuse me. Sorry. Thanks.”

When she reached Logan, she laid her hand on his arm. Big mistake; it was like touching a live wire. She quickly dropped her hand when he whipped his head around as if he’d been poked by a cattle prod. “Unless you know something about the gas leak, whatever it is can wait,” he said tightly. “I have a situation—”

“Of course it has a direct bearing,” she assured him. “Why else would I bother you? He’ll be right back,” she told the two men he was talking to. “I just need thirty seconds of your time. Outside?”

“Make it ten.” He indicated she precede him out onto the side deck. It was bright as day with all the lights on.

The breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders as she went to the rail. There was not much to see out there but white-tipped black water. She turned her back and leaned against the rail, drawing in a ragged breath.