Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (11 page)

Adam's back was to the wall. And if he had to lie to Marnie to get what he wanted, so be it. It only followed that if he had to use Marnie as bait to get to her father, that's what he would do. After all, it wasn't as if he were putting her in any danger. But once she discovered that he'd deceived her, all hell was sure to break loose.

He only hoped it happened after he got his audience with Simms or Victor Montgomery.

* * *

M
ARNIE COMBED HER
wet hair. Shampooing had been difficult without hot water. She'd had to heat water on the fire, then she'd sponged all the dirt from her skin. She was drying her hair near the flames when she heard Adam's tread on the porch. The door burst open and he strode in, as grungy as she was clean, and deposited a huge bag on the floor.

“You brought more supplies?” she asked, eyeing the bag.

“Everything I could carry.”

“But why? We're leaving…” Her voice faded as she understood. “Something's not wrong with the
Marnie Lee,
is it?”

“She'll be fine,” Adam said easily. “But there's another storm brewing—might be worse than the last. The Coast Guard advised us to stay put.”

She dropped her comb, her hair forgotten as she glanced at the window and the overcast day beyond. “Another storm?” she said, her heart sinking at the thought of being cooped up with Adam any longer. His restless energy made her nervous, and the way he stared at her, as if trying to read her mind, bothered her. “You called the Guard again?”

“Mmm.” He was unpacking the bags, laying out more food and supplies on the hearth. “I thought I should explain our position. And I wanted an updated weather report.”

“It would be better if you hadn't,” she said, walking to the window where she balanced a knee against the sill and rubbed her arms. The horizon was bleak. The waters seemed lonely. Where once she'd spied three fishing boats, now only one trolled the steely depths.

As a young girl she'd spent a lot of time on the ocean. Her father had taught her to read the weather's slightest
signals. A fragile breeze stirred the branches of fir trees near the lodge, but the sky was far from dark.

“When's this storm supposed to hit?” she asked, trying to keep the suspicion from her voice.

“Early afternoon. Maybe sooner. No way to tell.” He tossed a piece of mossy oak onto the fire and kicked it into place. The flames crackled and hissed. Adam rubbed his hands on his jeans. “The weather can turn quickly up here.”

“I know, but I think we could limp into port,” she said, testing him, though she really doubted that he would lie to her. What would be the point? No doubt he was as anxious to be rid of her as she was to lose him.

Adam shrugged. “It's your call, Marnie, but it wouldn't hurt to wait it out. The boat's holding water now, but one more shot against that hull and it might split wide open.”

“It wouldn't take long to make it to Chinook Harbor or even Deer Harbor.” She bit on her lower lip thoughtfully, resting her hands on the windowpane. She wasn't used to making these kinds of decisions alone, and Adam wasn't much help. Not that she wanted his help, she told herself. This was, after all, her bid for independence.

“You're right,” he said suddenly, before she could change her mind. “We can probably make it. Okay, let's go.” He grabbed his bag and the two sleeping bags and shouldered open the door. “Kill the fire.”

“It couldn't be any worse than last night,” she pointed out as he walked outside. She ignored the fire and followed him onto the porch. The wind blew harder than she'd expected, and she watched as the first thin drops of rain began to drizzle from the leaden sky.

“Last night was bad enough,” he said, squinting as he stared at the horizon. “But this storm, bad as it's supposed to be, should blow over soon and why take a chance?” He was across the porch now, starting for the path. “
However, if you're sure you want to try it, just pack what you need. We can leave the supplies here.” Head bent against the rain, he started along the sandy path that led through the rocky forest, to the beach.

Indecision tore through Marnie. What if he were right? What if she, in her foolish anxiety to leave this place, put the
Marnie Lee
in jeopardy? Then all her quick words about standing on her own would come back to haunt her. Her father and Kent would never let her forget her aborted attempt at freedom. “Adam! Wait!” She ran the length of the porch and watched as he turned on his heel, his back rigid, his face, as he spun to glare at her, a mask of impatience.

His jaw was dark with the start of a beard, his lips thin and compressed, his brown eyes reflecting anger. “Make up your mind, Marnie. What's it gonna be?”

She checked the sky again. It suddenly seemed more ominous. The clouds were burgeoning. The timeworn phrase, better safe than sorry, flitted through her mind. “We can wait. A few more hours won't hurt, I suppose.”

Tossing her a look that silently called her a wishy-washy female, he hauled the bag onto his shoulder, brushed past her and headed back inside.

“Women,” he muttered, making the word an insult.

Marnie bit back a hot retort and waited a few seconds before she followed him back into the lodge. The man really got under her skin. Who was he to sneer at her? It wasn't as if he'd been invited on her ill-fated cruise. He'd stowed away, like the thief he probably was. She stormed inside where Adam was once again opening up his packs. To look busy, she stoked the fire and prodded the logs, causing flames to shoot to the back of the blackened fireplace. Adam's eyes never left her backside. She could feel his gaze boring into her. Well, he could look all he wanted. She'd put up with him for a little longer, but if
the storm didn't break by mid-afternoon, or if she didn't see any evidence of a serious squall on the horizon, she'd pack everything up herself, if she had to, and sail to Chinook Harbor. Adam Drake could do whatever he damn well pleased.

* * *

“D
RAKE
? S
HE'S WITH
Adam Drake?” Kent sputtered, his eyes rounding incredulously as he stood in the middle of Victor's Seattle office. “What the hell's she doing with him?”

“I wish I knew.” Victor reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, withdrew his pipe and opened the humidor on his desk. “I would've known earlier, but the captain of the Coast Guard ship that took the message called Port Stanton before he reached me here.”

“We've got to go get her! That man's crazy. You saw how he barged in on your party, and I don't have to remind you what he did to our publicity!” Kent snapped the local section of the paper onto Victor's desk. The headlines, bold and black, announced:

Disgruntled Employee Returns
To Opening Of Puget West

Adam Drake, whose employment with Montgomery Inns was terminated last year when half a million dollars disappeared…

“I know what it says,” Victor grumbled, clicking his lighter to the bowl of his pipe and inhaling. He let out thick puffs of smoke. “I just don't know what to do about it.”

“Well, the first thing I'd do is impound that damned boat of his—the one he left at Port Stanton. The security guards saw him take off in a boat, so he must have doubled back and left it at the hotel.”

“Maybe—”

“Then, I'd go up to Deception Lodge and haul Marnie
back here! For God's sake, Victor, no one can even guess what Drake's got up his sleeve!”

“You think he'll hurt Marnie?” Victor asked, eyeing Simms as he paced nervously in front of the desk.

“He's desperate. After that fiasco last night, I did some checking through a P.I. who owes me a favor. I'd already had him looking into Drake because of the problems last year. Anyway, according to the P.I., Drake's planning to get back into the business. But there's a catch. Anyone he approaches for financing turns him away. He's talked to groups from L.A., Houston and Tokyo. No one will touch him.”

Victor drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered his nemesis. Once he had trusted Drake with his fortune, and had anyone asked him about the most ambitious vice president he'd ever promoted, Victor would've replied that he would trust Drake with his very life—or the life of his daughter. He'd had that much faith in the bastard. But, of course, his opinion had plummeted when he'd realized that Drake had slowly but surely embezzled him out of a sizable chunk of his wealth.

The money hadn't really been an issue, but the lack of loyalty had. Victor required absolute loyalty from his employees. In return, he treated them well. But not, apparently, well enough for a scoundrel like Drake. He glanced up at Kent, edgy as he paced from the windows to the bar and back. It took all of Victor's willpower to remain calm. “Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but there's nothing I can do.”

“
Nothing you can do?
Marnie's your daughter, for crying out loud!”

“Precisely.” Victor's fist connected with the top of his desk, jarring his arm. “And if I interfere in her life, she'll never forgive me!”

“She might not get the chance,” Kent said, his face
flushed. “Drake's backed into a corner. And we all know how a cornered wolf reacts. You could press charges against him for kidnapping—or trying to steal the
Marnie Lee!
”

“We don't know what the hell happened to put Drake on the
Marnie Lee,
so I can't start making wild accusations. Besides, I don't give a damn about that boat.”

“Well, I do!” Kent said, his face reddening. “Remember, half of it's mine.
I
should press charges.”

Victor waved off that argument. “Forget it. At least for now. According to the Coast Guard, Drake plans to put up for repairs in Chinook Harbor.”

“
He
plans. What about Marnie?”

Victor clamped his teeth onto the stem of his pipe. As far as he was concerned, Marnie had gotten herself into this mess, she could damn well get herself out.

“Well, what're we going to do?” Kent demanded, coming over to stand in front of Victor's desk and leaning over the cluttered surface.

At that moment Kate tapped lightly on the office door and poked her head in. “Ty Van Buren on line two.”

“Thanks, I'll take it,” Victor said, then noticed the nervous twitch of Kent's mouth. The poor kid was worried sick about Marnie. “There's nothing we can do right now.” He reached for the phone. “Except wait. It's Drake's move.”

T
HE AFTERNOON WORE ON
, the weather growing slightly worse, but the storm that had been predicted never developed into anything more serious than a slight squall. As the hours dragged by, Marnie was on edge, overly aware of Adam in the lodge, his maleness seeming to fill the cavernous rooms. She felt the weight of his gaze, smelled his musky scent, heard his tread as he moved from room to room, pacing the lodge like a lion. Some of the time he'd spent chopping wood, as if he expected to be here longer than a few hours, or to focus some of his energy, she didn't know which. He'd also scouted and explored the lodge stem to stern and top to bottom. Marnie hadn't accompanied him. The less she was forced into contact with him, she figured, the better for both of them.

They hadn't said more than a dozen words to each other. Marnie had done some exploring herself, kept the fire burning, and sorted out the supplies Adam had brought from the boat, all the while keeping one eye on the weather. If only they had a radio, she thought in frustration as the night loomed ahead, then she'd hear the weather updates and know what to expect.

As it was, she was facing another night alone with Adam, and the hours marched steadily onward. The shadows in the rooms lengthened, and Marnie silently kicked herself for not following her instincts and taking the boat to port. She should never have trusted Adam. He'd probably invented the whole story. But why? No, his lying to
her didn't make any sense. She wasn't about to kid herself into believing that he
wanted
to stay here with her.

Her stomach grumbled, and she eyed the sorry prospects for a meal. She heard Adam walk into the room, and without looking over her shoulder, she snagged two pieces of bread and a jar of peanut butter. “So what happened to your storm?” she asked, spreading a thin layer of peanut butter on one slice of bread. Not exactly hearty fare, but the sandwich would have to do.

She took a bite and twisted on the hearth so that she faced him. Adam, who had been in the basement, brushed the cobwebs from his hair but didn't answer immediately.

“The storm,” she repeated. “Remember? The one that kept us trapped here all day? The one with the gale-force winds that the Coast Guard was so worried about?”

He shoved up his sleeves. “Maybe it'll hit tonight.”

“Maybe,” she replied, studying him as she took another bite. Would he lie to her? But why? It just didn't make sense.

She watched as he moved to the window and scanned the sky, as if he were looking for something, expecting something to appear in the gloomy heavens. Perhaps he had been telling the truth. Maybe he did expect a storm of hurricane proportions. Still, she wasn't convinced. She decided to call his bluff. “Maybe you didn't even call the Guard.”

Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he rained a sarcastic smile in her direction. “Why would I lie?”

“You tell me.”

He snorted and faced her again, his hands resting lightly on his hips. She tried to keep her gaze on his face, but couldn't help noticing the way his fingers spread over the pockets of his jeans where the faded denim stretched taut across his lower abdomen. She quickly averted her eyes, focusing on the window instead.

“You disappoint me, Marnie.”

“
I
disappoint you?” she repeated, startled. Why, all of a sudden, was she so aware of him? Was it the storm gathering outside, the charge of the forces of nature, or the warm atmosphere in the lodge that made her realize just how intimate the situation had become? Her stomach clenched, and she pushed the remains of her sandwich aside. A few seconds before she'd been ravenous, now she couldn't swallow another bite.