Cold As Ice. Anne Stuart

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ too mouthy when she was nervous, and the pills weren’t having the desired effect. “If you’re into kidnapping and extortion, then I don’t think you’d care about what condition you left the boat in.”

      The small man blinked, a quick, dangerous movement, like a rattler about to strike, and Genevieve wondered whether she needed to dive for cover, but then the man simply laughed. “Someone will pay good money for it.”

      “It’s a little ostentatious, don’t you think? Whoever buys it can’t expect to get away with it.”

      “I appreciate your concern, lady, but there are places that can strip a boat and change its appearance as quickly as they can with stolen cars. And most of the people who own a ship like this don’t care too much about legal niceties. Now shut up and move.”

      Genevieve shut up and moved. He gestured with the gun, and she preceded him into the narrow passageway. She half expected to see bodies and blood, but it looked the same—spotless, deserted, normal. She kept moving, looking back every now and then to make sure her companion was with her. The gun was trained at the center of her spine, and a tiny shiver washed over her. A gun like that could do a lot of damage to a spinal cord.

      It was colder out on the open water, and the stiff breeze tugged at her neatly coiffed hair. She should have had it cut—she’d intended to wear it in braids while she was in Costa Rica, but it was looking as if it was going to be a long time before she saw that place.

      “Keep moving,” the man behind her snarled. “Up that staircase.”

      She started up, wishing she’d found her missing shoes. They would have done more damage, but she’d simply have to make do without them. He was following close behind her, and she waited until the right moment, when she was at the very top of the metal staircase, and then she kicked backward, hard.

      Her bare foot connected with his face and he tumbled down the steps, cursing. She didn’t wait to see whether the fall had done any permanent damage— she took off. The deck was deserted, with blinding sunlight all around, and there was no place to hide. She grabbed the first doorway, only to be confronted by a utility closet, but she didn’t hesitate, cramming herself inside and pulling it shut just moments before the sound of heavy footsteps made it onto the deck.

      It was pitch-black inside the tiny cubicle, and it smelled like gasoline and cleaning supplies. She was covered with a cold sweat, and her heart was racing, but apart from that she could pride herself on an almost surreal calm. She’d studied hard and well on just what to do if someone ever came after her again. The circumstances hadn’t been quite what she’d practiced, but close enough, and she’d definitely managed to hurt the man with the gun. The question was, if he found her, how would he pay her back?

      One thing was crystal clear in the claustrophobic confines of the closet. She didn’t want to die. And she wasn’t going to go without a fight.

      “Lost something, Renaud?” The voice came from almost directly outside her hiding place, and the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach turned to ice. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, and she’d been listening intently. She didn’t recognize the voice either—it was low, cool, expressionless.

      “That bitch.” Renaud’s voice was muffled.

      “Got the drop on you, did she? Maybe you should go clean up—you’re bleeding all over the deck.”

      “I’ve got a score to settle with that little—”

      “You don’t have any scores to settle, you have a job to do. I’ll take care of Ms. Spenser.”

      “She’s got to be a plant.”

      “Because she managed to get away from you? I doubt it—I think you just underestimated her. Madame Lambert just came through with the best possible intel—she’s simply a high-priced lawyer who stumbled into something unpleasant. Too bad for her, but no particular problem for us. Harry was just as likely to have someone with him when the mission went down.”

      “She’s the one who’s going down,” Renaud snarled.

      “You’ll do what I tell you to do and nothing more.” The voice was cold, cold as ice, and Genevieve could feel the goose bumps form on her arms. She didn’t want to meet the owner of that emotionless voice—the cold water of the open sea would be warmer than the man who was dangerously close to her hiding place.

      “Whatever you say, boss,” Renaud muttered, clearly unhappy.

      “After you get cleaned up why don’t you go to her room and get rid of her stuff. We don’t want any loose ends, do we?”

      “What about her?”

      “It’s a boat, Renaud. There aren’t many places to hide in the middle of the water. I’ll take care of her when the time comes.”

      Genevieve held her breath, half expecting an argument, but Renaud had been thoroughly cowed. “Just promise me you’ll make it hurt,” he said.

      “I’ll do what I need to do to accomplish the mission, Renaud. No more, no less.”

      She listened as Renaud’s footsteps retreated down the deck, then the belated clatter on the metal staircase. There was no other sound, but then, she hadn’t heard the mysterious boss approach. It stood to reason she wouldn’t hear him when he left either.

      She wasn’t about to take any chances. He couldn’t stand there forever—if she counted to five hundred in French then she could probably risk opening the door to make a run for it.

      Where she would run to was still a question. Over the side seemed the safest possibility, if she could find a life vest and a flare gun. A self-inflating raft would be even better—she could wait until the boat was out of sight before she inflated it. But if worse came to worst she’d simply go over the side as is, taking her chance with the cold water rather than the deadly cold voice of the unseen man. She had no idea whether there were sharks out there. She only knew about the human ones on board.

      She counted to five hundred twice, her rusty French slowing her down. She considered trying it in Latin, but it had been too long since her high-school classes with Mrs. Wiesen, and besides, the chances of anyone still being outside the utility closet were almost nil. If they knew she was there they would have simply opened the door.

      She moved her hands blindly over the door, looking for the inside latch. Her eyes should have become accustomed to the darkness, but the door was sealed shut. If she stayed in that airless, lightless hole much longer she’d probably pass out from the chemical fumes.

      She made no sound as she ran her hands down the inside of the door, her fingers finally reaching the catch. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief—she’d known a moment’s panic that there might be no inside latch. After all, how many people expected to be opening a tiny closet from the inside?

      The door opened with an almost inaudible click, and she pushed it open, closing her eyes against the suddenly blinding glare of the midday sun as it bounced off the waters. She squinted, then opened her eyes fully. To look straight into the impassive eyes of a man she’d never seen before.

      A million emotions raced through her—instant panic, then hope as her eyes focused on the man leaning against the railing, looking at her. He was tall, dressed in loose white clothing, with long dark hair and very blue eyes, and his expression was nothing more than politely curious. She’d never СКАЧАТЬ