Waterborne (22 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

BOOK: Waterborne
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“There are, I tell you. I saw them.”
“The ship went aground. Most of those on board were shaken up, but not killed. The Lemorians aren’t wholesale murderers. They wanted to make certain that the ship was out of action, that it would process no fish or dolphins anytime in the near future.”
“So we just leave them.”
“They’re humans, Ree. Atlanteans don’t interfere in human activity and hope the humans don’t interfere in ours.” He swam to her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her tenderly. “We can’t risk becoming involved with those aboard that vessel. We have a mission to fulfill.”
“I know that.” She nodded, but she had no intention of letting this go, no matter what Alex said. She tried again. “But, if you’d seen them ... how frightened they were.”
“I’m tired, woman. I’ve had a hell of a night. And I can’t wait to get you alone. Is that so terrible?”
“No, but ...”
“No buts, Ree.” He hugged her against him. “You’ve gotten under my scales, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
She laid her head against his chest, listening to the strong beating of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers. “I think we need to rest and eat,” she said finally. “And then, maybe, we can figure this out. If you’re certain we have time.”
And I need to work out how I can return to find those frightened kids.
“We’ll make time. There’s a place I think you’ll like.”
“Anything like the seraphim?”
“Wait and see.”
 
The next time Ree surfaced, it was to find herself in another cove, sheltered this time from the wind, lashed by rain, but devoid of death in any form. Tired and aching, she followed Alex up onto the deserted beach. “Where are we?” she asked.
“American Samoa. This is a preserve, a protected area. This section is almost impossible to reach by land, and as you can see, no sailboats, no motorboats. My lady, I give you your own beach.”
She chuckled. “Nice, very nice, but a wet beach.” Somehow, being out of the water and wet was different from being wet in the ocean. She was cold and hungry, and she wanted to curl up someplace warm and sleep for twenty-four hours. “You’re certain Varenkov isn’t getting away while you’re playing Boy Scout.”
“What is
boy scout
? I don’t know the game.”
“A long story, best told over toasted marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey bars.”
His hand closed over hers. “Come with me.”
“Do I have a choice?”
Alex laughed. “You always have a choice, Ree. But this time, I think you’ll like what I have to show you.”
He gathered her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a small child, and carried her up through the swaying palms. There, blending in so completely with the vegetation that it was hard to see through the driving rain, Ree saw a silhouette of a traditional Samoan hut. The oval-shaped structure stood on a raised foundation of coral and had a pitched roof covered in thatch. The normally open sides were sheathed in mats woven loosely of coconut palm fronds.
“This is where you’re bringing me? It looks like something out of a movie set,” she cried, delighted.
“It’s an authentic Samoan
faleo’o,
a beach
fale
or house, with a few modern touches,” Alex said. “My guess would be that it was built for the upscale honeymooning tourists, but since no one is using it ...”
“I love it!” she shouted above the rain and kissed his wet cheek.
“A tropical paradise at your command, my lady. All you need is a grass skirt and two coconut shells.” He ducked his head as he entered the single room and lowered her to the pebbled floor. There, on an intricately patterned, handwoven mat, a meal of steamed shrimp and crab, baked sweet potato, bananas, breadfruit, clams, and pineapple juice waited.
“How did you manage this?” Ree demanded. “It’s wonderful.” She traced the braided lashing that covered one of the center support posts. “You didn’t swim over and prepare this and swim back for me? Is it real or an illusion?”
Alex laughed, “You’re the illusion, Ree. If there’s any trickery, you’ve done it to me. The hut was already standing here, and Bleddyn lowered the
pola,
the side coverings, and arranged the meal. He thought you deserved pampering after all you’ve been through.”
Ree sat cross-legged on the edge of a mat and plucked a fat shrimp from the bowl. “You really are a prince of a man,” she teased before peeling the shrimp and popping it into her mouth. “Mmm, delicious.”
Alex removed his sword and armor and settled on the mat beside her. “Woman,” he said. “You’ve caused me more trouble than I can ever tell you, and you’re probably going to cause me more, but you’re worth it.”
Ree laughed and arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
His tone grew serious. “It’s not just sex between us,” he said.
“It’s good sex,” she teased. “Maybe the best.”
“But it’s not enough,” he said, “not enough for me.”
She broke off a crab leg and cracked the shell. “Well, between the sharks and the Lemorians, we haven’t had much quality time. With a little practice, I’m sure I could do better.”
“There’s something I should tell you.”
She used a shell to dip up some of the sweet potato. “Before I eat?”
He leaned close and she offered him a bite. Alex shook his head. “I’d rather watch you enjoy it.”
She reached for a banana. “Seriously, I’m starving. The shrimp is really good. Don’t you want some?” She peeled the banana, took a bite, and then asked, “What did you want to tell me?” She chuckled. “Wait. You aren’t an Atlantean. You sell insurance in Toledo, but—”
He took the banana out of her hand, tossed it aside and kissed her. “I think I’m in love with you, Ree.”
Her heartbeat quickened, and the urge to run washed over her. It wasn’t possible. It was better to keep this light, to tease and laugh, to make love and walk away. “I’ll bet you say that to all the women you rescue from mad Russians,” she murmured when the kiss finally broke and she came up for air.
“Only to you, Ree O’Connor. Only to you.”
CHAPTER 22
 
H
e wiped a bit of shrimp off her lower lip and kissed her again, slowly, tenderly. Ree’s insides turned to mush as desire rose and she felt the heat of his body envelop her.
“It’s true,” he whispered, kissing her throat and the soft place beneath her ear. “I’ve shared sex with many women, but I’ve never felt about any of them as I do about you. You’ve bewitched me.”
She drew in a deep, ragged breath and closed her eyes. She could still feel his gaze on her, and the warmth of his lips tugged at her heartstrings. “Don’t say what you don’t mean,” she begged him. She knew the ground was crumbling under her, knew how close she was to falling head over heels for him, and knew—most of all—how it would end. How it always ended ... badly. “I can’t,” she uttered softly. “I can’t do it again.”
He pulled her against him, holding her, stroking her back, rocking her. “Can’t what, Ree? Can’t love me?”
She turned her face away, and clenched her teeth. If she tried to speak, she didn’t know what would come out. Her throat tightened. Fear shot through her. She couldn’t. She couldn’t risk loving someone else. Everyone she’d ever loved had died.
“Ree, look at me.”
She opened her eyes and turned her face up to his. “Save the sweet talk,” she said, her voice harder than she meant it to be. “It’s better if we keep things physical. Better for me, better for you.”
“It’s not enough.”
“It has to be.” She shook her head and lied. “I don’t feel that way about you.” She drew in another breath, finding strength from the lie. “As you keep telling me, I’m human, and you’re ... whatever you are. It’s a lot simpler if we stick to business, killing Varenkov. It’s what we came here to do, isn’t it?”
He let her go and got to his feet. “Enjoy the food,” he said. “The sleeping mats are there along the wall. Get some rest. When the storm eases, we’ll go after him.”
He was only an arm’s length away, but the distance between them seemed like an eternity. “No reason we can’t take advantage of this place,” she said. “I’ve no objection to sharing your bed. To the contrary.” She shrugged. “Didn’t you just say that I’d cause a lot of trouble for you in the future? It doesn’t have to be that way if we go back to the way it was supposed to be, just fun between adults.”
“I’ll come for you when it’s time.” He turned toward the entrance and picked up his armor and weapons.
“Don’t go,” she said. “There’s no need for you to go.”
He glanced back at her and she winced at the hurt in his gaze. “There’s every need,” he said and ducked low as he exited the hut.
“Alex?” She followed him to the doorway, but when she looked out into the rain, he was already gone. “Alex!”
No answer.
Wind tugged at the mat that hung across the door. Rain beat against Ree’s face. “It’s better this way. You’ll see.” She looked back at the food and realized that she was no longer hungry. “We never stood a chance in hell,” she whispered, only half aloud. Alex would realize that. He’d come back and things would be as they had been.
She shivered, suddenly chilled. She might have lost her appetite because she was cold and wet. There was a small stone fireplace set into the far wall of the
faleo’o,
definitely not authentic Samoan décor, but welcome. A basket of logs, kindling, and coconut-husk tinder stood beside the hearth. She looked around for matches, but finding none, resorted to her gift.
Quite a comedown,
she thought.
Using twenty years of psychic higher education to start a campfire in a grass hut.
But it worked. A few sparks and the coconut-husk burst into flame. Slowly, she fed small twigs and then larger ones, arranging four logs over the growing fire. The fire took the dampness out of the room, and she unrolled the sleeping mats and the padded egg-crate bedding.
If Alex wants to sit outside in the rain, so be it,
she decided. He’d probably gone back to the ocean where he belonged. “But where do I belong?” she murmured into the empty room. “Where have I ever belonged?”
When she was small, her parents had kept her away from other children, away from all but a few close friends of theirs. They’d warned her not to talk to strangers, and never to start fires unless they were with her and could assure that it was safe.
She’d always known that she was different. Different even from the other students in her age class at the institute. She couldn’t remember having a single friend there ... no one she could trust ... no one that she could be certain would be there the next morning.
“You were born for this,” one of her teachers used to say. “We understand you. We can help you find your purpose in life. Without the institute you’d be freaks. In earlier centuries, your kind was hunted down and put to death. Don’t think that because the world has become more sophisticated that you’d ever be accepted. You aren’t like other people, and that frightens them.”
Maybe it was true, what he’d said. Her mother hadn’t been afraid of her, but she’d suspected that her father had been. He’d shared her gift of commanding fire, but not her ability to see into the future. And if he hadn’t feared her, he’d feared what the world around them would think and do. Or maybe he’d always known what they’d do ... maybe her father’s worst fears had come to pass when an unknown assailant had burned the house around them. Sometimes, Ree had wished that she’d been at home with them that night. If she had, she suspected that she would have died, too ... but then she wouldn’t have been alone.
The exchange with Alex had shaken her. She’d ventured so close to the edge, but she had control again. It would hurt to let him go out of her life, but not as it had hurt when she’d lost Nick. And she’d never admitted to Nick how she had really felt about him. At least, she thought that she hadn’t. If he’d had the sense God gave an onion, he must have guessed. But it wasn’t meant to be. She was different. She had no one but herself to depend on and when her time came, she’d leave no one behind to suffer heartbreak as she had suffered.
Ree pulled the mats over in front of the fireplace, lay down, and pulled a thin cotton blanket over her. And when she slept for twelve hours straight, she dreamed not of her lost Nick, but of the coral reef in its myriad of colors and shapes and its abundance of life. She saw again—with the clarity and brilliance that her superhuman, Atlantean vision gave her—the stunning shades of green and orange and blue, and she savored each new sight with wonder and tears of joy.
 
“Vere are zay?” Varenkov demanded. “I pay for prime stock, not alley trash.” In frustration, he hurled his glass across the stateroom and it smashed against the far wall. “Do you know vat zis vill cost me? Grigori make promises. Important men expect him keep vord. Powerful men make bad enemy.”
Nigel sat his glass, still half full, on the bar. His stomach was uneasy, and the constant roll of the yacht wasn’t helping. He’d never been that fond of boats, but being shut up here during the storm listening to Varenkov whine and shout for the last thirty hours in badly accented English made him wish that he’d stayed in Hong Kong.
“Vat? Vat he say? Ven I see merchandise?” The Russian sank into an easy chair and ran a hand over his head. “Is bad my ulcer, zis. Ship out of commission.
Nyeht
dolphin.
Nyeht
fish. Bad. If Varenkov not do himself, not get done right.”
“Phirun said that they were in bad shape, but not beyond recovery. He promises to find out who abused them.”
“I say treat zem like royalty. Feed zem until zey plump like roast chickens. Scarecrows vorthless at auction!”
“Phirun understands. He’ll make sure that those responsible will be severely dealt with.”
Varenkov poured himself another glass of vodka. “Deal vith? Ha! Is only one vay to deal vith fools.” He made a slashing motion across his throat. “Bad business to disappoint important client. Hmmp.”
“Phirun hired a skiff and brought them to Quon’s place, here in Pago Pago. He can bring them here to the yacht or—”
“
Nyeht! Nyeht!
Never on
Anastasiya.
No business on
Anastasiya.
How many times I tell you? No business here. You go see cargo. If Phirun try cheat Varenkov, you kill him.”
“You’re not coming with me?” Nigel asked.
“Vat you zink? Varenkov go strange house, not know zis Phirun? Maybe he American CIA. Maybe vork for Chinese mafia. Maybe enemy of Varenkov. You go. Vat I pay you for? Take chances. Earn your money.”
“You’re the boss.” At least it would give him the opportunity to get off the yacht for a few hours. “I’ll leave right away, if you’ll have one of the Zodiac’s lowered.”
The Russian shook his head. “Not yet. Ve vait for new shift guards come other yacht. Zen you go. Plenty time. If Phirun honest, it not matter make him vait. Make him sveat. Next time, he not screw up.”
“You follow that Zodiac,” Alex ordered. “Bleddyn and I will continue surveillance on the
Anastasiya
.”
Ree nodded. She would have rather kept watch on Varenkov, but she wasn’t going to be unreasonable. Alex was in charge of this operation, at least at the present. He’d been cool toward her since he’d returned to the hut this morning, but they hadn’t argued, and she thought that was good.
The weather remained foul, but the wind had lessened in force, and the seas weren’t as rough as they had been. The rain no longer came down in torrents, but only as a hazy mist.
She slipped through the water, easily keeping pace with the Zodiac as it left Varenkov’s yacht and crossed the Pago Pago Harbor before heading out into the open sea. The Zodiac zipped along, riding the waves, hugging the coast for half an hour before cutting into a small inlet.
Ree surfaced and watched as the craft nosed against a cement dock and one man climbed out. He started up toward the shore while the other two remained in the inflatable and snugged it tightly to a mooring post.
Wherever he is going, he expects to return,
Ree thought. It was too dark to be concerned about being seen as she left the water, but she was cautious by habit. By the time she reached the line of palm trees, her target was just disappearing in the distance, and she hurried to catch up.
There were few houses here, and even fewer lights. Ree thought these must be vacation homes or rentals, and this was the rainy season, probably not the best time for tourists, even adventurous ones. She moved from tree to tree, always keeping aware of her surroundings but not letting the man get too far ahead.
She wished it were Varenkov she was trailing. It would have been easy to slip up on him and finish it here in this dark rain forest. She would have had him before he realized that he’d been followed. But he rarely left his yacht unless he was at home in Russia or entering one of the larger cities such as New York or Hong Kong. Suspicion was what had kept him alive so long.
After perhaps ten minutes, the man she’d trailed from the Zodiac approached a house with a high wall around it. He stood at the gate until someone from inside opened it, and then he went in. Ree waited. Not more than twenty minutes later, he came out again and started back toward the beach. She followed, careful to keep from being seen.
The headache struck as she was leaving the shelter of a coconut palm. A scene flashed behind her eyelids, but one so impossible that she froze, unable to draw breath. She saw, or thought she saw, Nick’s face illuminated in the darkness. So stunned was she by the vision that she lost track of time. A second? Two? More.
The feel of cold metal against her throat yanked her out of her trance.
“One move and you’re dead,” the voice said. “Who are you, and why are you following me?”
For the space of a single heartbeat, Ree hesitated, caught between action and the impossible. Action won. Flame flew from her fingertips, scorching her assailant’s face and hands. Shocked by the burn, he released pressure on the knife at her throat for a split second. Ree seized the advantage, driving an elbow into his midsection and spinning out of his grasp. In the same motion, she drew her own weapon and blocked the blow from his incoming blade.

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