Dressed in a seaman’s overalls, the man stalked toward her. His rough features were twisted in contempt, gun at his side. Despite the fact he seemed to know who she was, she’d never seen him before. And it didn’t look like he was here to join them for a cup of tea.
She could wait for Xander to open the door, and then they could both get shot. Or she could run.
She ran.
The end of the hall wasn’t far, and a few seconds later, she burst outside, onto a metal landing. Rain pelted her and her feet slipped on the slick metal, its bumps not enough to add friction. The steps only led down to the main deck. She’d have to run to the other side of the cabins and climb the ladder to the bridge to get help. She pounded down the steps as giant waves crashed against the side of the ship, threatening to suck her into the sea with them.
She reached the main deck and ran between the towers of containers, the man’s footsteps hammering after her. As she turned a corner, the ship plunged downward into a deep wave. Her feet slid across the floor, and she landed with a thud. Before she could get back to her feet, a shadow loomed over her.
CHAPTER 24
Taking the ship had been a terrible idea. Xander opened the bathroom door and waddled to the bed. With a groan, he collapsed onto the rumpled comforter. This was not going the way he thought it would. Why couldn’t something go his way for once? Just once.
Now that his stomach was completely empty, he should probably try walking the seasickness off, maybe even find some ginger or some medicine. They probably kept all sorts of remedies on board somewhere. While there was no doctor on board, they had to have a first aid kit or something.
He could join Leila in the dining room, even though he had no appetite. He just needed to leave the room and get some fresh air, rain or not.
Ignoring the twisting in his stomach, he sat up and glanced around the room. His gaze fell on the desk where the wooden box and notepad sat. Curious, he shuffled to the desk and picked up the box, taking a moment to read the hieroglyphics. A bird, a river, doubt, and promises… all recurring themes. He looked down at Leila’s notes and read the verse.
What is your path?
If only he knew. Why did every path he take seem to be the wrong one? Or were they? They did lead him to Leila. But even his path with her was… what, exactly? Was it worth taking a different one now because of a few bumps? Hard bumps.
He put the lid back on the box and slipped it with her notes into the freezer bag. The lies had cut deep, but not so deep he couldn’t understand her reasons for doing what she did. Or see the pain on her face when he’d turned away from her—pain that had been caused by him. The sting of regret stabbed at his heart. He shouldn’t have been so cold. Would she even want the same path as him after all this? Not wanting the box to slide off the desk, he returned it to its pocket in the backpack.
A crash came from the hallway. He whirled around. The door handle rattled, then footsteps pounded down the hall. Frowning, he walked to the door. What was that all about? Maybe Leila had come back with food and her hands were full. Although that didn’t explain the footsteps running away.
Holding his breath for a moment, he listened. Silence. Slowly, he opened the door and peered into the hall. Empty. Except for the spilled dinner tray a few doors down.
He rushed back into the room, dug his gun out of the backpack, then bolted out the door. Certain the footsteps had gone left, he ran down the hall after them, stumbling against the wall as the ship tipped forward. It was Jones. It had to be. He desperately hoped he was wrong. If it was Jones, then they would both be sitting in a jail cell within hours.
Or dead.
A blast of cold air hit him as he neared an open door. He ran through and a hard rain thrashed his face as he squinted into the sodden night. No sign of Leila.
Muttering a curse, he clacked down the metal steps, hit the deck, and raced between the towering containers. She could be anywhere out here. A wave smashed against the side of the ship, sending a river of salt water across the path. His mind spun, afraid he was too late. Afraid he wouldn’t find her. Afraid he was going to lose her.
He reached the stern and slid to a stop. He’d have to run back down the other side. If she wasn’t out here, he’d have to try the next deck down. He whirled around and then he saw them. Standing up against a wall of containers, Leila was positioned in front of a man, her arms held behind her back. Framed with her drenched hair, her jaw was tight, and her eyes were wide. The man pressed the muzzle of a Ruger to Leila’s temple.
It wasn’t Jones. Despite the seamen’s overalls and the rain-drenched hair, Xander had seen that face before. Thomas Walker, another SIS agent, one Xander usually only saw in video calls.
“Put the gun down, Harrison,” Walker snarled.
Xander’s stomach lurched as he stared at the pistol at Leila’s head. That didn’t give him many options. Taking in a shuddering breath, Xander placed the gun on the sopping deck.
“Now, on the ground,” Walker barked. “Unless you want her shot.”
Xander held Leila’s steady gaze. He wasn’t sure if he should be surprised or relieved that she wasn’t showing any fear. She was poised. Angry. Confident. Not the look of someone ready to surrender. He dropped to his knees and lay on his stomach.
“Hands on the back of your head.”
Running his tongue over his teeth, Xander laced his fingers together and placed his palm against his soaked hair.
Just keep calm.
The man stepped forward, pushing Leila in front of him. Xander held perfectly still, the sensation strange as he lay on the deck of the swaying ship, like flying. All he needed was a giant wave or something to shake Walker off balance, then he could pounce. They may be outgunned, but Walker was outnumbered. They could overtake him.
Walker inched closer to Xander, keeping his arm tight around Leila, then he lowered the gun and reached into his pocket. To Xander’s surprise, Walker released her, and Leila stumbled forward.
Now would be the time to act. But the ship tipped forward, salt water splashed around them, and his stomach threatened to empty. Again.
“You get to do the honors,” Walker said, sounding a bit sick himself. He held out two zip-ties and pointed the gun at Leila.
Xander’s window of opportunity was gone. Idiot. Get yourself together.
With her brow furrowed, Leila took the zip-ties and stared at them.
“Hurry up,” Walker barked.
She stumbled forward and crouched next to Xander. “What do we do?” she whispered as she pulled his arm over his back.
“Keep doing everything he says.”
She pressed the zip-tie to his wrist and wrapped it around. The angry sea swelled, and the ship rose and tipped forward, as if it would dump them into the depths. Leila stumbled forward, gagging.
“I’m going to throw up again!”
A moment of confusion flashed through Xander’s mind. As far as he knew, she hadn’t thrown up once. The bow of the ship hit the water with a violent jolt, sending the three of them rolling across the deck.
