Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (7 page)

“Why?”

“You're not part of my plan.”

He snorted and tossed back the hood of his poncho. “We've got more in common than I thought. You weren't part of mine.”

“Let's get one thing straight—we've got nothing in common.”

He glanced at her sharply. “So you're a believer in the great lie, too. You really think I skimmed off money from the Puget West project.”

“There's been no other explanation,” she said, hedging.

“I was cleared, damn it!” In two swift strides he was so close to her that she noticed the gold flecks in his brown eyes. His nostrils flared in outrage.

“You weren't cleared,” she said evenly, “there just wasn't enough evidence to indict you.”

He drew in his breath sharply; the air whistled through his teeth. “Well, Miss Montgomery, I guess I was wrong about you. I thought you might be the one person in the entire Montgomery Inns empire that realized I'd been set up. But you're just like the rest, aren't you?”

“No, I'm different. I ended up with you as a stowaway. I didn't ask you to come on board, did I? As far as I'm concerned you should get off my boat.” She considered telling him that she'd stood up to her father and the board, declaring him innocent, but decided the truth, right now, was pointless.

Adam's gaze raked down her. “What do you want me to do? Walk the plank?”

“If only I had one.” He could joke at a time like this? The man was incorrigible! There was a slight chance that he was a thief, and now he'd stowed away on the boat, proving that he obviously had no scruples whatsoever. And yet there had been a time when Marnie had relied upon his judgment, had trusted his interpretation of the facts. She had sat through many meetings with Adam in attendance. He always spoke his mind, arguing with her father when necessary. Unlike Kent, who worked diligently to have no mind of his own and think exactly like her father. The proverbial yes-man. She shivered at the thought that she'd once believed she loved him. She'd been a blind fool, a rich girl caught up in the fantasy of love.

The
Marnie Lee
groaned against the weight of a wave, and a tremor passed through the hull. The wheel slid through Marnie's fingers, and Adam grabbed hold of the helm, his arms imprisoning her as he strained against the wheel. “Only an idiot would sail in a storm like this,” he muttered.

An idiot or someone hell-bent to have a life of her own, she thought angrily, surrounded by the smell of him. The scent of after-shave was nearly obscured by the fresh odor of water and ocean that clung to his skin. His hair gleamed under the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling and his features were set into a hard mask as unforgiving as the sea.

“Do I have to remind you that you've shown up uninvited twice in one night? That must be some kind of record, don't you think?”

“I don't know what to think right now,” he admitted, his eyebrows thrust together and deep lines of concentration etching his forehead, “but I sure as hell can come up with a hundred places I'd rather be.”

“That makes two of us,” she snapped, as his arms
relaxed and he stepped back, giving her control of the vessel again. “We'll put into port at Chinook Harbor.”

“That's where you're going?”

“It's a little out of the way.”
But worth it, to get rid of you,
she thought unkindly. She didn't need any complications on this trip, and any way she looked at it, Adam Drake was a complication. He stepped away from her, and she commanded the boat again, glad for the feel of the polished wheel in her hands. A hundred questions plagued her. What did he want with Kent? Why had he stowed away? How involved in the embezzling was he? And why, oh Lord, why, did she find him the least bit attractive? The man was trouble—pure and simple.

The storm didn't slow down for a minute. Harsh winds screamed across the deck and waves curled high to batter the hull repeatedly. Marnie's stomach spent most of the trip in her throat, and she didn't have time to consider Adam again. He made himself useful, helping read the charts and maps as they headed into the cluster of San Juan Islands.

Her plan was to drop him off in Chinook Harbor, spend the night on the boat, then, as soon as the storm passed, sail around the tip of the island to Deception Lodge, an antiquated resort her father wanted to restore. Making camp in a potential Montgomery Inn bothered her a little; the lodge still belonged to her father and as long as she was seeking shelter on Montgomery soil, she wasn't truly free.

“But soon,” she muttered as she spied a few lights winking in the distance, lights that had to be on Orcas Island.

“But soon—what?”

She shot him a look that told him it was none of his business, and was about to turn inland when she spotted the buoy bobbing crazily ahead.

“Watch out,” Adam commanded, but the sea swelled
under the boat like a creature climbing from the depths. “Marnie, you're too close!”

Panicked, she checked the gauges. “Too close to what!”

CRACK! The
Marnie Lee
trembled violently, and for a second Marnie thought the boat was about to split apart.

“Damn it, woman, get out of the way.” Adam shoved her aside and threw open the door.

“You can't go out…” Her voice was carried away by the cry of the wind.

“Just steer the boat, for God's sake!”

Horrified, still trying to set the
Marnie Lee
back on course, she watched as Adam tied a rope around his waist, then worked his way around the bow, rain beating on his head, his hands moving one over the other on the rail. He paused at the starboard side, leaned over, then braced himself as another swell rolled over the deck, engulfing him. Marnie's heart leaped to her throat. She saw the lifeline stretch taut. Her stomach lurched as the wave retreated and Adam, drenched, still braced against the force of the wave, appeared again.

“Thank God,” she whispered, her throat raw, “Now, Drake, damn your stubborn hide, get below deck and dry out.”

Another torrent of water washed over the deck and once again Adam vanished for a few terror-filled seconds. This time, when the water receded, he moved along the rail again before disappearing on the stairs.

She guided the ship by instinct; she'd learned sailing from her father years before. But all the while her nerves were strung tight, her ears cocked to the door.

Nearly ten minutes later, Adam returned to the bridge, dripping and coughing saltwater and glaring at her as if she were responsible for the storm. “There's a crack in the hull—a small one on the starboard side, on line with the galley,” he said. “Not a big gash, but it's not going
away. You're taking on water—slowly. I used some sealer I found downstairs, but it won't hold, at least not forever.” His eyes were dark and serious. “You've got to turn inland.”

“But there's no port for miles.”

“You don't have a choice. The island's close enough. Just head for land. We'll worry about a harbor when we get closer.” He picked up the microphone for the radio and started to call the Coast Guard, but Marnie flipped the switch, turning off his cry for help.

“We'll make it ourselves,” she said, refusing, in her first few hours of freedom, to give up any small bit of her independence. “Besides, I think the storm's about over, the rain's stopping.”

“Did you hear me, Marnie?” he demanded, ignoring her assessment of the situation. “Rain or no rain, sooner or later, this boat is going to sink like a stone. And we're going to sink with her.”

“But not for a while. Right?”

“Unless we hit something else.”

“How long do we have?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Ten minutes? Twenty? Two hours?”

“Hell, I don't know, but you can't take a chance like this!”

“Why not?” she demanded, cranking hard on the wheel and checking the maps of the area again. They weren't far from her destination, the point where Deception Lodge was sprawled on high cliffs over the ocean. If she could beach the
Marnie Lee
soon, she wouldn't have to call for help and suffer the indignities of having Victor running to save her only to remind her that she wasn't yet ready to fly on her own wings. Well, damn it, he was wrong. And so was Adam Drake. “Don't tell me you're worried about your neck, Mr. Drake.”

“No more than I am about yours.” Sarcasm tainted his voice.

“Then help me get this boat to shore.”

He eyed her for a minute. “And for that, I get what?”

“A bargain? Now, you want to bargain with me?” she asked incredulously. She couldn't believe her ears. “Isn't staying alive enough?”

His lips curved crookedly. “Give me a little more incentive. My life this past year hasn't been that great.”

Unbelievable! While the boat rocked beneath them, he wanted to barter. Marnie didn't have time. “Okay, okay already. So I'll owe you one,” she said, furious until she saw the glint of satisfaction in his dark eyes.

“All right, Marnie. You steer. I'll keep the gash from getting any worse.” He started for the door but stopped, glancing back over his shoulder, his hair falling over his eyes. “What is this, anyway—some sort of quest? What're you trying to prove?”

When she didn't answer, he strode out the door. Marnie wasn't about to confide in him; he could bloody well think what he wanted. After all, he hadn't been invited along. She owed him nothing. Not even an explanation. Besides, if anyone had an explanation coming, it was she. What the devil was he doing looking for Kent on this boat?

She struggled with the helm until her muscles began to ache. Then, as she turned east, the storm abated. Waves still washed over the deck, but the wrath of the storm was spent, the wind no longer keening over the black water. The clouds, which had so jealously covered the moon, thinned to become a gauzy filter for weak moonlight.

Squinting, Marnie saw the island, a huge black shape rising from the frothy swell of the ocean like a sea monster. They couldn't be far from Deception Point, she thought wildly, but in the darkness she couldn't see well enough to make out the rocky cliffs. No lights glowed in
the dark, guiding her to a port, but she wasn't about to complain.

She slowed the engines, creeping in with the waves. In too close and she'd scrape bottom; too far out and they'd have a helluva fight in the life raft to get to shore.

Below decks, Adam heard, rather than felt, the change in speed. So they were going to dock. Finally. Victor's daughter had more guts than he would've given her credit for—maybe more guts than brains, considering the situation. He sealed the cut in the hull again with the sealer he'd found in a storage closet, and decided the craft wouldn't sink as long as she was stable. The gash was above the waterline and had only leaked when the boat had listed badly. Unless the sea rolled the
Marnie Lee
onto her starboard side again, the boat wouldn't settle to the bottom of the ocean. Or at least he hoped not.

So why hadn't she let him radio for help? What kind of game was she playing? Was she the kind of rich woman who needed thrills?

She'd always seemed so down-to-earth. Beautiful but never too flashy. Elegant but not extreme. So why the sudden boat trip in the middle of a storm? And why not call the Coast Guard?

Could Marnie Montgomery be a woman running from her past?

That particular thought intrigued him. He climbed the slippery steps to the bridge. Marnie barely glanced his way. “You'd better drop anchor,” he said, checking the charts again. “Any closer and you're asking for trouble.” His gaze slid to hers, and for an insane moment he thought he read more than anger in her stare. But that was crazy. As far as he knew, she hated him, thought he was a traitor to Daddy's precious company. She looked away, but not before he recognized female interest for what it was.

“Okay, let's do it.” She released the anchor, and the boat settled, rolling with the tide but no longer listing.

Adam, still wondering about her reaction, worked on the inflatable life raft and loaded it with supplies.

“Get your things,” he ordered when the raft was pumped up.

While she climbed to the lower cabin, he hurried back to the bridge and made a quick call to the Coast Guard. She'd be furious with him, but so be it, he thought, as he loaded his pockets with matches, flares and a first-aid kit he found in a cupboard beneath the radio.

Within minutes they were both in the life raft. Leaning his back into the oars, Adam rowed for shore. Marnie reached for the second set of oars, but he shook his head. The air was still cold, the wind still gusting, and he felt an unlikely sense of chivalry. “I can handle this. Relax.”

“No reason,” she said, her back stiffening as she threw her weight into the task.

Adam didn't argue with her. If she thought she was helping, fine. He wasn't up to another argument. Rowing backward, he watched her arms strain, the muscles of her back move fluidly. She wasn't a wimp by any stretch of the imagination, and he grudgingly admired her gameness. The
Marnie Lee,
lights blazing, was stark against the dark sky. They rowed without speaking; only the sound of the waves and the occasional burst of wind disturbed the silence as they approached the beach.

Adam dropped his oars, climbed over the side and slid into the chest-deep icy water. Towing the raft inland, he said, “I radioed the Coast Guard.”

She snapped her head around. “You did
what?
”

“I didn't think you'd want your father to worry, and the Guard needs to know about the
Marnie Lee.
”

“You had no right!” she cried, outraged.

“Probably not. And it's not that I care a lick about your
dad. I just thought, from the looks of things, you wouldn't want him sending the cavalry after you. Hey—stop—you don't have to—”