She grabbed the railing and prepared to leap overboard, when motion on the bow caught her eye. Two guards were there, one shining a blazing, handheld spotlight into the water. The light pinned Andy’s small boat, and the second guard raised his rifle and aimed.

Dar heard the Dixie’s horn sound a warning. She released the rail and bolted forward toward the bow instead, heading straight for the two guards. With a growl, she dove headlong at the first, hitting him at the knees and taking him down. Together, they crashed into the second and he stumbled backward, falling down and rolling across the pitch of the deck. He slid under the railing and hung there, his light falling down into the water with an unheard splash. Dar found the rifle clattering by her and she kicked it, sending it spinning over the side.

The guard who had held it jumped on top of her, pinning her to the deck and slapping her hard across the side of the head. “You’re dead, bitch.”

Dar felt the truth of that. She gathered her flagging strength and fought him, ripping one hand loose from his grip. Her fingers brushed against something hard and she clutched at it, pulling hard when she recognized the outline of a diver’s knife strapped to his thigh. As he lifted a fist and aimed for her head, Dar pulled the knife free and drew her arm out sideways. Swinging it inward a hair’s breadth before his fist arced for her face, she buried the blade 314 Melissa Good in his side, feeling the harsh, ethereal sensation as the knife penetrated his clothing and entered flesh. His scream was a testament to her accuracy.

Dar arched her body, rolling to one side with all the effort she could muster. She managed to throw him off, and as he rolled one way, she rolled the other. The boat pitched as she was trying to squirm under the rail, she felt him grab her by the back of her jacket, and the next thing she felt was a sudden shock that rattled her whole body. Then it all went dark.

KERRY WATCHED ANXIOUSLY, her eyes widening. “Dad!”

She pointed to where she could see Dar struggling with the thug.

“Oh…oh, my God!” she screamed, seeing her partner go down as the man hit her in the back of the head. “Dar!”

Without the slightest hesitation, Andrew dove overboard, regulator already in his mouth, and mask already settled on his face. He paused to yell back at Kerry, “Take hold of that damn rudder!” before he ducked under the waves and disappeared.

Kerry scrambled back and did as he had ordered, hauling the boat around and heading it back toward DeSalliers’ yacht. “Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch!”

Behind her, the Dixie’s horn went off again, three short blasts that sounded urgent. Kerry kept her eyes glued on the yacht in front of her, her heart almost stopped as she heard the yacht’s engines fire. “No!” But as she watched, the big boat turned and started moving, heading away from them. Kerry felt like she was going insane. She gunned the engine of her watercraft, then abruptly slowed as she saw a head poke from the surface. “Dad!”

Andrew waved her on toward him, signaling urgently. “C’mon, girl. Move it!”

Her instincts in conflict, her hand shaking, Kerry directed the boat toward him, panic starting to overtake her. She slowed the raft, and Andrew reached for one of the grips and pulled himself over the gunwales and aboard with seemingly little effort.

He rolled over and came up next to Kerry, taking the tiller from her. “Bastards.” He watched the boat draw away from them. “Ain’t catching them in this thing,” he said, whipping the watercraft around in a tight, vicious circle that nearly swamped the boat in the following waves.

“Dad, they’ve got Dar!” Kerry gasped out. “We’ve got to get her!”

“Ah know that.” Andrew said, setting a course back to the Dixie. “Ah know that.” He looked behind him, tension written clearly etched across his scarred features. “Mah God.”

Kerry could only sit there, clenching and unclenching her Terrors of the High Seas 315

hands, her heart beating so quickly she could barely breathe. Every instinct was pushing her toward simply jumping overboard and swimming after DeSalliers’ yacht; only the fragile remnants of her sanity kept her where she was.

Dar was gone. Helplessly, she started crying, one hand holding on to the boat and the other gripping her hair, wanting nothing else but to scream, and scream, and just keep on screaming.

“GO! MOVE! HURRY!”

Dar heard the noises and felt the motion, alarm sending a shock wave through her as she realized what had happened. She was lying on a hard surface inside the cabin of the boat, and she could feel rug under her fingertips as she started to move.

“Fucking bitch!”

Instinct made Dar roll out of the way, just as something whisked by her head and crunched into the fiberglass wall. She got to her hands and knees, trying to keep her balance as the boat pitched in the waves.

“Ow!” Gregos, who’d missed her and kicked the wall instead, hopped backwards and fell down, unused to the motion of the boat.

“Fucking bitch! Fucking bitch! Bitch!”

Dar shook her head to clear it and looked dazedly around at the cabin. DeSalliers appeared from the steps, staggering up them with an ice pack held to his face. He spotted Dar and stared at her. She stared back.

He dropped the ice and reached for a pool cue, the fury in his eyes showing he was beyond reason. Spittle flying from his bruised mouth, he went after Dar with the stick, swinging it at her head.

Dar really didn’t process what happened next. She knew she was being attacked and her body reacted, ducking under the pool cue and spinning around to land a kick on DeSalliers’ side.

“Bitch!”

“Let me do that, boss.” Gregos, face swollen from her earlier kick to his head, got up and grabbed for Dar. “I’ll break her fucking neck.” The boat lurched and he fell again. “Fuck!”

Dar got to the side of the room and collected herself, a pounding headache causing flashes of light to obscure her vision.

She put her back to the wall and raised her hands in a defensive posture, as DeSalliers held on to a chair while the boat pitched wildly.

“They’re comin’ after us!” a voice crackled from the radio.

“Holy shit!’

Unable to move, DeSalliers stared across the room at Dar. “I’m going to kill you,” he managed to get out. “I don’t care what it takes, if I hafta gut you with a fucking harpoon.”


316 Melissa Good Dar somehow managed to gather her wits. “What does that get you?” she asked, wincing at the rasp in her throat.

“Satisfaction,” he spat.

“A prison sentence,” Dar corrected. “Because they all know I’m here.”

DeSalliers looked through the window. “We’ll lose ’em. Then I’ll dump your stinking body overboard. They’ll never find it.”

Dar straightened a little. “You’ll never lose them.”

DeSalliers laughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. “Your fucking girlfriend? Bet she’s crying her eyes out.”

Did she have a chance to talk her way out of this? Dar swallowed. Well, at least she was alive, and she had to do everything she could to stay that way. “What is it you want, money?”

“No.” The man stared at her in utter hatred. “There ain’t enough to keep me from killing you. I’d even take a rap for it.”

Oh crap. Dar started looking for a way out of the cabin. The boat was traveling at high speed, and jumping off would probably kill her, but— Above the sound of the storm, she suddenly heard a booming roar.

“Boss!” the radio screamed. “They’re fucking shooting at us!”

DeSalliers grabbed the radio. “What? Get away from them, jackass!”

“I can’t! One of the god damned engines is blown!”

Another booming roar and suddenly the window beside DeSalliers dissolved into a thousand shards of glass, which went flying across the cabin. Dar pressed her body against the wall and threw her arm up to protect her face.

“Shit!” DeSalliers shoved off from the bar and bounced into Gregos, grabbing the gun from his henchman’s belt and heading in Dar’s direction.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN GETTING on the Dixie and finding a way not to collapse, Kerry managed to get herself under control and put a screeching halt to her runaway panic. She staggered across the pitching back deck as Andrew threw himself at the ladder, yelling to a very scared-looking Charlie up top.

Bud was lying on the deck, still out cold. Bob was clinging to the railing, his eyes as huge as baseballs. “Oh my God,” he was saying, over and over again. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“Please shut up.” Kerry went past him and into the cabin, her knees barely holding her as she made it to the bench seats and yanked them up. She grabbed the shotgun case and pulled it out, her hands shaking. Can I even load it? With impatient fingers, Kerry Terrors of the High Seas 317

shoved shells into place and worked the pump action. Then she stood up and headed for the door, grabbing the frame as the Dixie heeled over and picked up speed. She went outside, stopping short as she almost plowed into Andrew.

He looked at her, his eyes flicking to the shotgun. “Ya’ll wanna give me that there thing?”

“No,” Kerry answered hoarsely. “I know how to shoot it.”

The boat bounced over the waves, the spray drenching both of them. “Figured you did,” Andrew replied. “But Ah figure Ah got more practice at it.” He held out a hand. “And Ah know what part of that boat to hit.”

Kerry handed the rifle over without another word. She followed him as he went to the side rail and got up onto the edging, then moved around to the bow of the boat. The storm almost obscured the DeSalliers’ boat, but Kerry could see it crashing through the waves ahead of them, and she hung on to the side cleats with both hands as she squinted into the rain.