HIGH TIDE (16 page)

“Briana.” A pause. “
Briana?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Open your eyes.”

“No.”
I want to sleep.

“Briana, look at me.” The voice commanded. “We’ve got to find a way out of here.”

Briana’s eyes flew open. The dim light divulged what her ears already determined.
Nick.
He was similarly bound, his mouth a tense slash in the dark as he struggled to tear free from his bindings.

“Nick?”

It took a moment for the cobwebs in her brain to recede. A shaft of moonlight illuminated his struggle in the small compartment. Her eyes acclimated as she began to reconstruct the events leading up to this moment.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “I really blew it, didn’t I?”

***   

Nick ceased his efforts. He tipped his head back against the wooden hull and took a deep breath filled with saltwater and the
bitter tang of sulfur.

Thank God she was alright.

Briana had been unconscious for nearly half an hour. It was a half hour in which he had raged at his incapacity, and a half hour where every effort to coax a response had failed. Powerless, he was left to stare at her ashen complexion and whisper words of encouragement on deaf ears.

Just a few moments ago, the wooden crates stacked in the corner arrested his attention. With painstaking effort he shifted to that side of the hull and felt the nauseous clench of alarm grip his stomach. The contents were exactly what he
had feared. When he would have probed further, Briana blessedly opened her eyes.

“As much as the idea of throwing you over my knee and spanking you is alluring,” he whispered, “I don’t think it’s something I can manage at the moment.”

A thin band of moonlight scored Briana’s face.

“Why, Bree? Why did you do that? You were safe, you could have gotten away.”

“I—I was afraid of what they would do to you.”

A
wrench in his chest that felt something like heartburn rattled him.

“You know what, Miss Holt?” Even in the dark, he could see her shoulders stiffen
as he spoke. “I think you’re beginning to like me.”

“Don’t go getting all cocky on me, McCord. If you were to up and disappear, how would I ever be able to
prove to you that
Manale Palms
isn’t responsible for your beach erosion?”

Nick’s eyelids dropped. “I think we’ve pretty much narrowed down the culprit. I didn’t get a good look at the machinery they have on deck, but—” his gaze swept to the pile of crates. “Those are explosives
, Bree. A potent enough explosion underwater could temporarily affect the tide—and it could destroy sea life.”

Gaping at the boxes, Briana swallowed hard
. “Oh my God, what the hell is going on?  We’re in way over our heads.”

Her words echoed hollowly through the cabin.

“I would have kept you from this, Briana. I wouldn’t have let you get this close.”

“But I didn’t listen.” She knocked her head back against the wall. “I came after you. I’m responsible for putting myself in this situation, so let’s just end that little debate shall we?”

There it was, he thought.
The power voice
. Only that he had personally witnessed her softer side, did this part amuse him.

Listening to the hull slice through water, and the distant thumps of activity from above, he studied Briana. There was a dimple of effort in her heart-shaped chin as she struggled against the thick-corded rope. His own efforts to shrug free of his bindings had proved futile
, and it tortured him that he could not get to her.

Frustration
sounded from across the way. Briana’s head was angled back, looking up at the low ceiling. He traced the arch of her throat, and even in this dismal situation, still remembered the taste of it. That recollection made him more determined than ever to get them out of here. He did not want his time with Briana cut short. Forget his ridiculous indoctrination of the past...he wanted more with this woman.

If they could survive.

Briana’s head dropped and their eyes met. Moonlight revealed her fear, but she scooted up from a slouch and searched his body as if her gaze had the power to heal.

“You must be cold,” she whispered.

“Why do you say that?”

“I saw you shiver,” she observed. “You have no shirt.”

Nick took stock of the bloodstain on her tank top. It alarmed him. Forcing his eyes away from that, he observed the goose bumps that dotted her arms.

“Well, I’m looking at your chest too. You don’t have on much more than I do.”

Damn, he wished he could see her blush. Because,
power voice
or not, he was certain she was blushing.

“I’m alright,” she challenged.

For a moment he remained quiet, but alert. “Briana, come here.”

***

The moon must have shifted behind a cloud, leaving their chamber in dense shadows again. Nick’s command was haunting and faceless.

Unsure, Briana remained still until she heard him repeat in a husky whisper
, “Come here and keep me warm.”

Unable to deny him that simple request
—thinking that a physical connection was exactly what she craved most right now, Briana wriggled away from the wall. The ache at the juncture of her neck and shoulders made her suffer for the maneuver, but she still managed to skid over to Nick’s side where she felt him assess her with his glance. Rooted in his forehead was a deep frown as he contemplated the scratch on her shoulder. The blood-flow had stopped, but it needed a good cleaning.

From this new perspective she angled her head and searched the cabin, trying to locate an avenue of escape.
“Damn, I just wish there was a way out.”

“I’ve looked,” Nick offered quietly. “I’m tied to a pipe
. If I weren’t, believe me, I would have you off this ship already.”

The husky declaration
toyed with her nausea.

From
the dark, he murmured. “You’re not close enough.”

“Hmmm?”

“Come closer, Briana.”

His voice was soft, evocative, and she responded with little hesitation as she nudged forward until her body stretched the length of his. Clumsy with her hands confined, she listed slightly to her side.

“Sorry,” she whispered as her elbow struck a rib.

“Did you hear me complain?”

For a moment she remained rigid, but Nick’s scent and that source of warmth proved too alluring. Instinctively, she burrowed into it, the temptation to relax into his shoulder too overpowering to resist.

“That’s better,” he whispered into her hair.

Silent, she brushed her cheek against flesh that smelled of salt. The steady heartbeat beneath her ear lulled her eyes closed. “I wanted to save you, Nick.”

“You tried.” He kissed her hair.
“That means a lot.”

***

Why, despite the evident peril of their situation, did he feel somewhat content?

I know why
.

As mad as he was at Briana for putting herself in danger—he knew she had done so out of burgeoning care for him. On that pier, in the dark, she put his safety before her own, and that was what now caused
the odd quaver in his chest.

Quietly he
proclaimed, “You did good.”

There was no response, just the soft
brush of her breath against his flesh. It nearly made him forget about the pain in his shoulders, or the explosives sitting beside him.

Nearly.

Nick’s head snapped at the tread of footsteps from above. Briana reacted to the tension in his body one second before she too heard the rhythmic approach.

Methodic footfalls carried down the stairs until with a forced wrench, the crawl-space door flung open. Light filtered from the bridge above to outline the figure stooped forward, his chilling leer enough to invoke images of
cannibals. It was one of the men who had attacked him, and he now flashed an automatic in his hand...possibly a Glock.

Beneath the cap of short black hair, a sheen of sweat glistened against sallow skin. At the high
hairline, a network of protruding veins plotted a map towards hostile black eyes. Twitching in contemplation, thin lips sneered at Briana.

Nudging into the alcove
with his gun trained on Nick, the man announced, “Well, I have no clue who you two are, but I must say, your presence is most inconvenient.” Those black eyes dropped to Briana’s tank top. “So, for now you get to sit tight down here until we pick up some of my friends.”

A hollow chuckle filled the narrow chamber. “And then,” he
added, “we’ll see you on your way.”

“I’m sure you will,” Nick
spoke.

A grin scarred the man’s face, a face th
at was pinched too small for his proportions. His physique was tall, and even in this crouched position, corded sinews of muscle were evident beneath his tight black t-shirt.

“
We don’t like surprises.” The tone was hoarse with disdain.

Having spent enough time in Mexico on USGS business, Nick identified the origins in the inflection.
 The Mexican cocked his head to the right and then dipped it to the left, like a jungle predator contemplating the best route of attack.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to share the brainstorm that p
laced you on my ship?”

“I don’t suppose we do.” Nick’s voice was stark.

“You were trespassing.” The Mexican snarled. “Does it look like I have anything on board that is worth stealing? Or maybe—” he tapped a finger against his chin, and his black eyes narrowed. “Maybe you
know.
”

Know what?

Nick’s face revealed nothing, yet his mind reeled with questions.

Fingernails
continued to scrape against the bristly jaw. “If that’s the case—well, sorry, no more cuts of the action to go around.  There’s already too many hands in the pot. So sit tight, you will be getting off soon.”

The lilt in his voice hinted otherwise. In salute, he dipped his head,
and then yanked the panel shut, trapping them in silence.

Briana scooted across the
floor and awkwardly slammed her good shoulder into the wooden partition. Irritation and anxiety had her grappling for a doorknob, but the surface was bare.

“Easy,
Bree. There will be an opportunity to get out of here.”

“
When? 
How?”

“Soon.” It was impossible
to stand in this cell, but Nick adjusted his body and craned his neck to peer through the small porthole. Except for the moon’s sporadic appearance, and the diffused glow from the overhead deck, the ocean was as black as the River Styx.

Above, muffled footsteps made him tense for combat, but the restraints around his wrists barred him from any
such feats.

“See anything?”

He turned around and found Briana crouched in the corner, blonde hair spilling out of its ponytail, and a cleft of determination denting her brow.

“Look,” he began softly, “this doesn’t look too
optimistic right now. Somehow I will find a way for us to get out of here. Just, don’t ask me how yet.” He nodded at her open mouth, cutting her off. “But when the time comes, I’m going to need you to trust me. Do you think you can?”

Briana’s mouth clamped shut.

***

Trust Nick?

Trust the man that held you so tight when the tide lashed out? Trust the man who momentarily kissed away your fears? Trust the man who carried you into the water with determination, but also with a reverence that made your chest ache?

“Yes,” she whispered.

Their eyes met as the splash of the sea pounded against the hull.

“Can you—” Briana cleared her throat. “Can you see anything out there?”

“Very little.”

She battled with the ropes again, but her wrists fell uselessly to the floor. Blowing a puff of air up at her bangs, she then began to nudge across the floorboards. With rigorous effort she reached Nick’s side, and tried to work her way up onto her knees to catch a glimpse of freedom outside the porthole. Unsteady, she teetered for a moment and gained enough equilibrium to
search into the night.

Black water erupted into a gentle froth directly below. Further out, the moon cast a choppy trail, a hazy path towards an uncertain destination.

Turning to speak to Nick, she was startled at how close they were. Side by side, they knelt towards the light, his face a shade above hers, his lips just a breath away.

“Nick,” she started.

There was urgency in her tone, but she did not know how to voice her plea. Was she looking for a false sense of security? They were in serious trouble.
Serious
trouble. If there was a possibility that she was going to die tonight… goddamn, if they were going to be shot in this godforsaken hull, she wanted to kiss Nick one last time.