No Escape: The most addictive, gripping thriller with a shocking twist. Lucy Clarke

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      Lana woke to the sensation that she was swaying. A deep throbbing resonated through her skull and she lifted a hand, rubbing the heel of it against her forehead. Though her eyes were closed, she could sense sunlight and became distantly aware of an engine running and the sound of water nearby.

      Gradually her eyelids peeled open – and she saw not walls or a ceiling, but sky. She blinked, squinting against searing daylight. A breeze brushed against her face and she tried to push herself upright, but everything seemed to move, tilt, swing. She struggled – but it was as if the bed, the very ground, was sinking away from her. Then she realized: she and Kitty were in a hammock. She turned her head, sending a new shock of pain around her skull, and saw sea, sky, the deck of a yacht.

      ‘Kit …’ she croaked.

      Kitty came out of sleep as if she’d been plugged into the mains. She sat bolt upright, her hair wild, eyes wide. ‘Yes? What?’

      Lana blinked again, searching out the harbour, the fishing bangkas, the town – but land was just a blur of muted shadows behind them. ‘We’re moving.’

      ‘Holy fucking shit! What happened last night?’ Kitty exclaimed, half-laughing.

      ‘Tanduay Rhum happened,’ Shell said, gliding across the deck barefoot, holding out two mugs of coffee.

      Lana reached for one. ‘My God, you lifesaver.’

      ‘Have you kidnapped us?’ Kitty asked, taking her coffee.

      Shell smiled. ‘Aaron wanted to sail to a spot up the coast on high tide, so he set out early. You’ll be back at the harbour by lunchtime.’

      Kitty ran a knuckle beneath each eye and pulled on her sunglasses, which had miraculously survived a night on the hammock.

      ‘Were you okay up here?’ Shell asked. ‘I use the hammock when it’s too hot below deck, but it can get a little damp.’

      ‘I don’t think we’d have noticed where we slept,’ Lana said, looking out to sea as they were motoring forward. Then she manoeuvred her legs out of the hammock, wincing at the hot ache in her ankle as she stood.

      ‘How is it?’ Kitty asked.

      Lana experimented with putting weight on it. ‘Not too bad.’

      ‘Good morning.’

      Lana and Kitty both turned to see the Frenchman, Joseph, approaching. He had a thin, angular face and wore a rumpled shirt over a pair of shorts, his dark hair foppish and uncut.

      ‘Sorry I didn’t stay and meet you properly last night,’ Joseph said on reaching them. ‘You had a good time, yes?’

      ‘I think so – from what we can remember of it,’ Kitty replied.

      ‘We’re still trying to get our heads round the fact that you all live here, on this boat,’ Lana added.

      ‘Yes, me also.’ Joseph smiled. ‘We’re all lucky to have found it.’

      She nodded in agreement. ‘How long have you been on board?’

      ‘Me – only five weeks. But very good five weeks. The others have been here much longer—’

      Joseph was interrupted by a shout from Aaron. ‘Shell! Joseph!’

      They all turned. Aaron was standing at the helm wearing a sun-faded cap and polarized glasses. There was something authoritative about his stance, the widely planted feet, the single hand resting on the wheel, the lift of his chin. ‘Let’s get the sails up.’

      Joseph turned back to Lana and Kitty. ‘Time to see us at work.’

      *

      Sound filled Lana’s ears: the wild flapping of the sail as it was hoisted, the creak and strain of the sheets then the rush of wind as it filled the sail, making it snap out full and proud. The yacht heeled to the side and Lana gripped tightly to the wire lifeline that ran around the perimeter of the deck.

      A moment later the engine was cut and the noise of the motor slipped away so that all that remained was wind and waves. She craned her neck, mesmerized by the muscular curve of the sail as it stretched into a cloudless blue sky.

      Lana had never been on a boat – let alone a yacht like this – and she was awed by the sheer magnificence of being propelled through the sea by the power of wind. There was something so elemental, so stunningly powerful, about it. The wind toyed with the hem of her dress and mussed through her hair – and she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the warm salt air.

      She looked down the length of the yacht, taking in the weathered teak deck where swathes of rope were neatly coiled, and a paddleboard and two surfboards were lashed to the railings with bungee cords. She thought, This is another life – another world.

      Denny appeared from below deck wearing a faded grey trucker’s cap, his tight curls pinging out at the sides. His gaze found Lana and he smiled. ‘Joining us?’

      ‘Looks that way.’

      Kitty and Lana watched as the crew moved expertly around the yacht – an effortless dance in which everyone knew their role. Barefoot СКАЧАТЬ