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Opening the car door to a blast of heat, Nikki climbed out, wincing as her black patent pumps sank into the dry sand. Removing the folded wheelchair from the trunk, she struggled to pull it apart.
Sand sifted into her shoes. Sweat dampened the silk blouse beneath her black suit. She’d worn black on purpose. Somehow, the occasion had called for it. But now, with the sun blazing on her back, she regretted it.
Besides, they all looked like gangsters.
The wheelchair ready, she tried to push it toward the open door of the limousine. The wheels sank. And this was without Carter’s weight. She sighed. Kidnapping Carter had seemed so simple this morning.
Julian leaned an elbow against the car. Saunders fussed with the afghan.
Carter’s face turned ruddy and sweat dampened the hair over his forehead.
“This isn’t going to work,” Julian said in a low voice. “How are we going to get him into the wheelchair with everybody watching?”
“Can’t we just slide him in?”
“He’s supposed to be an old woman.” Saunders joined them at the door. “We have to treat him with respect. We can’t haul him around like a side of beef.”
Nikki pushed the chair as close to the open door as she could. “I’ll block the view from this side. You and Julian get him in as best you can.”
Grumbling, they tugged, pulled and slid Carter into the wheelchair. Nikki tried to keep him covered.
The wheels stuck in the sand. They all stared.
Julian sighed and raked a hand through his hair.
Saunders scanned the distant horizon. “What’s happened to me? I had a nice life. I had a job that didn’t bore me and supported me in the style I desire.” He wiped his forehead. “And what do I do? Why, I drug and kidnap my boss, of course. Then I stick him in the sand to roast like a pig at a luau!”
Carter turned his head in the first sign of recovering consciousness. Three soft gasps were carried away on the gentle beach breeze.
“Doomed.” Saunders slumped against the car.
“We’re all doomed.”
“Nonsense.” Nikki grabbed hold of the wheelchair handles and tugged. “C’mon. The three of us should be able to move this thing.”
They managed—barely. Nikki expected to hear police sirens at any moment. As they bumped along the wooden pier, Carter moaned.
They walked faster and pushed him up the ramp onto the Honey Bee and out of sight.
Once on board, the men slung Carter onto the berth in the master stateroom and Julian ran back to the limo for supplies.
In the pilothouse, Nikki started the engine and checked to see that the radio worked. She let out a breath in relief. From here on out, it should be smooth sailing—at least for the Honey Bee.
“Nikki?” Saunders stuck his head in. “You’re going to have to tell him.”
She knew. “Let me handle Carter. You work on the legal end.”
“All right, then. Speaking as an attorney, I’d advise you not to venture into international waters.”
“I’ve got to sail out far enough so Carter won’t jump overboard and try to swim back.”
Saunders gave her a stern lawyer-look. Nikki didn’t like his stern lawyer-looks. Saunders, surprisingly, made a very intimidating lawyer. It must be something about the contrast in personae.
“We don’t know if the Karrenbrocks will call the police,” he warned. “We don’t know who thought we looked suspicious here at the beach and called the authorities.”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Any rational person would think we looked suspicious.”
Julian was back on board. “I stowed everything below. Looks like you’re all set.”
“The papers?”
“Right here.” He tapped a leather briefcase. “We’re going to keep digging. You work on Carter.”
Nikki shivered.
“I know,” Saunders said with a gentle touch to her arm. “Don’t worry. Check in at eighteen hundred hours. We’ll be standing by.”
She nodded, loathe to see them leave. Both men had shed their jackets and she did likewise, peeling the black gabardine off her sweaty blouse.
They checked in on Carter one last time. He had slipped back into a deep motionless sleep.
“Looks like he’ll be out a while yet,” Julian said. “At least long enough for you to get away from shore.”
Nikki drew a deep breath and nodded.
Julian grinned. “Well, then. Bon voyage.”
She watched as he and Saunders walked down the ramp, jackets slung over their shoulders. They reached the bottom, cast off the ropes and waved.
Nikki waved back, then shoved the throttle into reverse.
The Honey Bee drifted away from the dock and for the first time in three years, seven months and twenty-two days, Nikki was completely alone with Carter Belden.
Her husband.
3
THE HAPPIEST TIMES of Carter’s life were spent aboard the Honey Bee with Nikki. Just heading south in the car was enough to loosen the kinks in his shoulders. Inhaling the salty air cleared his mind, the feel of gritty warm sand underneath his feet lowered his blood pressure. As the sun beat on his head, stress evaporated, leaving him pleasantly sleepy.
As soon as the Honey Bee was under way, he’d indulge himself in a nap, leaving Nikki at the helm.
Rocked to sleep by the waves of the Gulf of Mexico, Carter always fell into a deep, healing slumber, leaving his well-being in Nikki’s capable hands.
He trusted her as he’d trusted no other person. With Nikki, he shared his life and his dreams. When he needed her, she was there for him. Always. Without question.
Ah, Nikki. Just the thought of her filled an emptiness in his life that he hadn’t realized was there. He couldn’t remember the time before Nikki.
He inhaled with a sigh, reassured by the familiar faint musty smell of the Honey Bee’s bedding. Nikki combated mildew with the fervor of a religious zealot, but never completely obliterated it, despite her best efforts.
They so seldom had the opportunity to air the bedding in the master stateroom because it was frequently in use. Once he was in Nikki’s arms, he forgot everything but her touch, her scent and her taste. Smiling, Carter burrowed deeper into the pillow.
He supposed they could have adjourned to the guest cabin in the bow on occasion, but it was subject to the movement of the boat more than the master stateroom and not nearly as restful. Not that they rested all that much.
Shifting on the berth, Carter sniffed. Nothing from the galley. Nikki must not have started dinner yet.
He visualized her standing barefoot in the galley, wearing a swimsuit top and cutoff jeans. Her skin would be lightly tanned a peachy bronze, liberally sprinkled with freckles in spite of all the sun block she slathered over her body.
He’d come to depend on Nikki’s instantaneous transformation from business partner to domestic goddess. The boat was always stocked. He’d asked her once how she managed to have fresh lettuce, rib-eye steaks and whole milk for his coffee. She told him she always kept provisions in the office refrigerator, rotating them so she and Carter could leave at a moment’s notice.
He was grateful, he truly was. He should dictate a memo reminding himself to tell her so. Where was his tape recorder? He tried to search the shelf above the berth, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate. They were so heavy…
Lulled by the hum of the generator, Carter drifted back to sleep. Strange dreams disturbed him. Nikki didn’t look like Nikki anymore. Her hair was blond instead of chestnut brown. Her eyes were blue instead of ocean green. Her skin was tan and she’d finally managed to get rid of her freckles.
He’d liked her freckles. He’d made several attempts to count them all, but was usually interrupted. An interruption would be welcome now, as a matter of fact. Very welcome.
He waited and the dreams continued, shrouded in swirling white. Nikki in a wedding dress. But Nikki hadn’t worn a traditional wedding dress.
Flowers. Nikki had worn mostly flowers. White roses.
Carter smiled, then frowned. Roses were bad, he remembered, but didn’t remember why.
In his dreams, he tried to ask the shadowy figures, but no one would tell him. It gave him a headache, though that could have been from the noise. He didn’t remember all this humming and pounding on the boat before. Was the beating of his heart sounding in his head?
Maybe if he lay very still, the noise would stop. But stillness was relative, he discovered. Though he didn’t move, his body experienced a gentle up-and-down sway. A relentless, never-ending sway.
Carter swallowed, his mouth dry and cottony. He wanted a drink of water, but his stomach immediately rebelled. Hunger…no, seasickness. Seasick? Carter Belden was never seasick.
He would will this away. He visualized a grilled rib eye, charred on the outside, bloodred on the inside—and was immediately sorry.
What had happened to his sea legs, or rather his sea stomach? Just how long had it been since he and Nikki had been aboard the Honey Bee? Weeks? Months?
Years. The knowledge came to him accompanied by a great sadness. Something had kept him away from the boat. So why was he aboard it now? He cracked open his eyes just enough to see yellow and closed them again. Yes, he was aboard the Honey Bee.
But he didn’t remember getting to the boat. In fact, the last thing he remembered was…
“Nikki!” he bellowed, to his instant regret.
Pain ripped through his head and exploded behind his eyes with such ferocity that he actually opened them to verify that he still had his sight.
He wished he hadn’t. The hideous decorating scheme Nikki had chosen for the craft—black, yellow and white stripes—assaulted his vision.
Head throbbing anew, he shut his eyes against the garish yellow walls Nikki thought would add light to the cabins below deck.
He’d indulged her because they were newly married and because the wall covering, yards and yards of it, was fabric, not vinyl. But instead of disintegrating the way he’d expected—and hoped—the heavy canvas had worn like iron.
She’d even had matching swimsuits sewn out of the leftovers, for God’s sake. He’d refused to wear his in spite of the hurt looks she’d cast him.
He’d given her a little diamond bee pin to make up for it.
He hadn’t seen her wear it in a very long time.
“Carter?” Nikki’s voice sounded above him.
“Go away and let me die in peace.”
“Hold these.”
He felt her take his hand and plop something into his palm. “Does this involve putting anything in my stomach?”
“Aspirin.”
“Forget it.”
“Carter, having a headache is normal. Aspirin will help.”
“Normal? You drugged me.”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing normal about drugging someone. Therefore, the resulting headache is abnormal.”
“Impeccable logic. You’re right, as usual,” she agreed, cheerfully unrepentant.
“Ha!” He groaned. Being right hurt his head.
“Take the aspirin, Carter.”
Moaning piteously, he struggled to sit up. Leaning against the bulkhead, he blindly shoved the pills into his mouth. Nikki practically drowned him with the glass of water. Justice would only be served if he puked all over her, he thought, managing to swallow the pills.
They sloshed around in his stomach as he tried to counter the movement of the boat. “What are we in, a hurricane?” he grumbled.
“No, seas are calm.” Nikki maintained that irritatingly serene voice adopted by those who were dealing with grouchy people.
He opened his eyes. The room spun, but he focused on the waistband of her shorts, then tilted his head back and squinted at her.
Kneeling, she tugged away his bow tie and unbuttoned his collar button. She had started on the second button, when he covered her hands with his.
She raised her eyes and he was hit by the force of her green gaze. His pulse drummed in his ears as she awakened feelings long dormant, feelings he thought were dead, not just asleep.
Feelings he had no right to be feeling.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, rocking back on her heels and withdrawing her hands all in one graceful movement. She disappeared out the doorway, returning within moments.
“Don’t walk so loud,” he mumbled.
Nikki sat on the edge of the berth, doing horrid things to his equilibrium. “Sip some of this. You need lots of liquids.”
She wrapped his hands around a warm mug and, only because he knew she’d nag until he cooperated, Carter brought it to his lips.
