"We're not going to do any such thing," Kate said indignantly. "Can't you see we're rescuing him?"

"Was that what you were doing?" Beau's brow arched quizzically. "It Was all a little muddled back there. The only obvious victim appeared to be our friend Ralph." There was a touch of tiger in his smile. "Not that I'm objecting to his disposal, you understand. I was planning on taking him out anyway."

"Well, I did it for you," Kate answered as she turned into a pitch-dark alley that stank of garbage and wet cardboard boxes. "But Despard may remember you when he wakes up so you'd be wise to leave Castellano before he does. He's not going to be at all pleased with any of us."

"How unfortunate," Beau murmured. "And I was hoping for such a pleasant relationship."

They'd reached the end of the alley and Kate motioned for Julio to put his burden down in an alcove formed by a deeply recessed side door. "You're very amused by all this, aren't you? You may not find it so entertaining if Despard realizes that you helped us. He's a very dangerous man."

"I must admit your little play certainly livened up a boring evening," he said coolly. "Would you care to tell me why this Despard is such a threat?" "He's a drug runner," Kate said. "One of the biggest in the Caribbean and he has contacts high up in the government of Castellano. Your American citizenship might protect you from the government, but not from Despard's men." She paused uncertainly. "You are American, aren't you? You have a very odd accent."

"I'm from Virginia." There was a thread of indignation in his voice. "And there's nothing odd about a Southern accent. It's Yankees who talk funny."

"Is that what it is?" she asked as she knelt beside the man Julio had propped against the alcove wall.

She fumbled in the pocket of her jeans and suddenly there was the flickering flame of a lighter illuminating the darkness. "I've never heard one before."

Never heard a Southern accent before? Yet she herself sounded as American as apple pie. "Where are you from?"

"All around," she said vaguely, lifting the unconscious man's eyelid. "He's dead to the world, Julio. There's no way we can get him all the way through town and into the forest without you carrying him." She sat back on her heels. "And someone's bound to notice and report back to Despard. He owns almost everyone in town."

Julio dropped to his knees beside her. "So what do we do?"

She pressed a hand to her temple. "How do I know? Let me think a minute."

"Perhaps I could offer a suggestion or two," Beau said. "I take it your unconscious friend here is now on the run from both the local authorities and this Despard and you're looking for a place to hide him until you can get him off the island. Is that correct?" When she nodded, he continued. "I have a safe place not two blocks from here. I can also guarantee to get both him and the two of you off Castellano and as far away as Trinidad if you like." He arched an eyebrow inquiringly. "Interested?"

She nodded slowly. "Where is this place?"

"I own a schooner docked in the harbor. All you have to do is say the word and we'll take your fugitive there."

Her brilliant blue eyes were clear and direct in the flickering glow of the lighter. "And what word is that?" she asked quietly.

His lips curved in a mocking smile. "Yes," he said. "You only have to say yes to that proposition I put to you in the bar. Not a very high price to pay for your friend's safety, is it?"

She was very still for a moment. "No, not a very high price." She turned away so he could see only her profile as she gazed tenderly down at the face of the unconscious man. "Cheap, really."

"Proposition?" Julio asked with a suspicious frown.

"Don't worry, Julio," Kate said quietly. "The gentleman and I understand each other."

"But what kind of-"

"I said it was okay." Kate's tone brooked no argument. "Forget it. We have more important things to be concerned about right now." Her eyes met Beau's. "All right. It's a bargain."

"Good." He felt a thrill of excitement out of all proportion to the victory he'd won. Excitement, he wondered cynically, or was it merely pure lust? Perhaps a little of both. "Now that we have that out of the way perhaps introductions are in order." He inclined his head in a sketch of a bow. "Beau Lantry, at your service."

"Kate Gilbert. And this is Julio Rodriguez."

"And our inebriated friend?"

Kate gently brushed a lank strand of hair from the unconscious man's forehead. "Jeffrey Brenden."

"A relation?" He was feeling that same surge of unreasonable jealousy he'd known when shield smiled at Despard in the bar.

She shook her head. "No relation, just a friend."

"Well, I suggest we get your 'friend' to his safe and cozy berth."

"It's too soon for Julio to move him yet. They might be spotted," she said. "But I think we can go now." She flicked him a cool glance. "I have a job to do before I leave Castellano. I want you to help me."

"The cache?" Julio asked, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous, Kate. If you're caught even near that place Despard's men will kill you."

She ignored him, her gaze fixed with quiet challenge on Beau. "He's right. It's very dangerous. That should amuse you even more than what happened in the bar. Will you come with me?"

"Is it illegal or just immoral?" Beau asked lightly.

"Neither, except on Castellano. In fact, the U.S. Customs Service would probably give you a medal." She smiled slightly. "We're going to burn up about six million dollars' worth of cocaine."

Beau gave a low whistle. "Well, I suppose I've got to protect my investment. Besides, I've always been fond of medals. I haven't won one for years. I believe it's time I tried my luck again." He turned to Julio. "The schooner is called the Searcher. The captain is Daniel Seifert and all you have to do is tell him that Beau sent you. He'll take it from there."

Julio frowned uncertainly. "He won't ask any questions?"

Beau shook his head. "He may be a little curious, but he won't object. Daniel's used to my way of doing things by now."

That clear blue gaze was on his face again, this time gravely searching. "And this type of thing isn't all that unusual for you, is it? You like the excitement of skating on thin ice."

He suddenly chuckled. "Funny you should say that. I haven't given a thought to skating for two years." His lips quirked. "But I have to admit that thin ice definitely makes things more interesting." He stood up and reached out his hand to pull her to her feet. "Shall we go and see if we can find some?"

Two

The glow from the streetlight at the end of the alley revealed that his eyes weren't really brown as she'd first thought. They were hazel with odd golden flecks about the pupil that gave him an air of reckless instability. They were gleaming now with excitement-and that recklessness-as he looked down at her. "Is it too much to ask where this cache of cocaine is located?"

"Only a few blocks away. Despard and his men are using a small deserted warehouse close to the waterfront for storage. They were going to transport the cocaine by sea but they weren't able to hijack the yacht they wanted." Kate glanced up and down the street cautiously before turning right and motioning to Beau to follow. "It shouldn't take us more than fifteen minutes to get there."

"Providing we don't run into trouble." He fell into step with her, easily accommodating his long strides to her short but rapid steps. "It appears we've given your criminal cohorts the slip, but that doesn't mean they won't catch up with us."

"You don't have to sound so hopeful," she said, shooting him an indignant glance. "You may be enjoying all this enormously, but I assure you I'm taking it very seriously." She frowned. "And Despard isn't any cohort of ours. I can't stand the man. He's a damn cockatrice."

"A what?" he asked blankly.

"A cockatrice," she repeated impatiently. "You know, the mythical serpent that could kill with a look."

"Oh, of course." Beau's lips were twitching. "How could I have forgotten? Please forgive me. I can see how lumping you together with this cockatrice would be a terrible faux pas. It just seemed reasonable to assume you'd been partners with Despard and had a falling out."

"No, Jeffrey never takes partners. He works alone." She gave him a fierce glance. "And he's not really a criminal. Not like those cockatrices."

"Really? Well, what kind of criminal is he?" Beau asked idly. "I gather he was scheduled to transport this cocaine illegally into the U.S. I believe that constitutes smuggling and the last I heard that was considered very criminal indeed. Are you saying he's not a smuggler?"

"No." She frowned unhappily. "Yes. Oh, I guess he is, but he doesn't look at it that way. He never smuggles drugs or liquor or anything that could actually hurt someone."

"It's unfortunate that the authorities don't regard the smuggling of things that don't actually hurt someone as all right."

"Jeffrey is a throwback to another era. He sees himself as some sort of Henry Morgan or Jean Laffite." She shrugged helplessly. "He regards smuggling as a sort of modern-day gentleman's adventurous pastime."

"And do you feel the same way?"

She shook her head. "No," she said simply. "But I know he believes it, and that's enough for me."

"Such devotion." There was a barbed sting to his mockery. "Your lover must be very grateful for such an understanding mistress, as well as such an enterprising one. How often do you drag him out of situations like that one tonight?"