that it was unreliable at best—but no matter what logic told him, he didn’t fear for his daughter, her friend or his sister when they were with the guy.
“Oh, wow!” Amanda exclaimed, hugging his arm. “This is beautiful!”
The cabin utilized its limited space with sleek elegance. A turn to the left of the steps led straight to an aft cabin, while the steps themselves led into a galley that seemed to offer more appliances than his home kitchen. The galley spilled into a main salon with a desk that held a computer, a radio and a number of electronics he couldn’t even name. A table looked as if it could hold up to eight diners, and a hallway led to a forward cabin and the head. Everything was leather, teak or chrome.
“Can I get anyone anything?” Lee asked.
“Beer,” Ben said.
Lee moved into the galley, grinning. “Amanda?”
“You have any white wine back there?”
“Sure. Hank…Gerald?”
The other two men settled on beers. After the drinks were served—even Amanda’s wine was in a small bottle—Lee led the way through to the aft cabin. The master stateroom held a large, comfortable bed. “It’s a trundle,” Lee explained proudly. “When you need more space, you just pull it out. Of course, you lose your floor space that way. But it allows for a lot of sleeping space. There are a couple of ‘closet bunks’ in the hallway, as well. There’s a private head here in the master stateroom, too, with a shower. But it’s the fishing we’re out for. Let’s head back up.”
Ben thought Matt might have gone topside already, to fire up the motor. But he hadn’t.
He had remained in the cabin by the computer desk, radio, and Ben had the oddest feeling that the guy was guarding them.
Amanda was still glued to his arm, but Ben had a feeling she, too, was aware that although the saying here seemed to be Make yourself at home, there were certain areas of home that were off-limits.
Why?
His instincts were kicking in again. There was something askew with this picture. But what? For a sick moment he wondered if these guys were involved in a modern piracy ring, if they hadn’t acquired the yacht illegally. Then again, if a vessel like this had gone missing, he would have heard about it. The members of the club had associates all over the world as well, and the theft of a craft like the Sea Serpent wouldn’t have gone unnoted.
So much for his instincts. On the one hand, he was convinced that Keith, back onshore, would never cause the least danger to the people Ben loved. And on the other hand…
“C’mon,” Lee urged. “Come see the fish finder on this beauty. We’ll be hauling in our dinner at turbo speed.”
Amanda disentangled herself from Ben, yawning. “You know, I was thinking maybe I’d take a little snooze.” She laughed softly, looking at Ben. “We were all awakened in the middle of the night,” she reminded them.
“No way,” Lee protested. “We’re striking out to sea, all for one and one for all. Everyone topside!”
Amanda pouted prettily. She would have spoken again, Ben was certain, except that Lee was striding toward them, ready to herd them all up, as if he were a friendly sheepdog keeping the masses together.
He wondered if he was just creating a sense of something that wasn’t there, more spooked by Beth’s unease than he’d realized.
She was worse than he was, worrying about Amber, worrying about him, spending the majority of her time at work. For most young women, the club would be a smorgasbord of rugged, tanned, athletic professional men. But not for Beth, who didn’t date where she worked. It was as if she was oblivious.
Tall, tanned, perfectly fit in a feminine way—stacked—with her dark hair and exotic eyes, she was probably the greatest catch on the island. But even here, she was proving adept at keeping her distance.
“You’re mean,” Amanda teased Lee, and clasping his arm, a pretty moue on her face. “I’m just so sleepy.”
“I’ll set you up on deck. You’ll love it,” Lee assured her.
At that moment Ben knew for a fact that his suspicions were correct.
No one, for any reason, was going to be left in the cabin alone.
So just what were they up to?
“SHH!”
Beth found the sound absurdly reassuring. Though she couldn’t see the man whose hand was on her mouth, she knew it was Keith Henson. Was it the feel of him? A certain chemistry? It didn’t matter. She just knew.
She felt his other hand spanning the bare flesh of her midriff. He was tense but no longer forceful, and the hand on her mouth eased, then moved away. She could feel the thud of both his heart and her own.
As they stood there, silent, strangely bonded, Brad and Sandy appeared in the clearing.
And Brad was the one wielding the machete.
It was a wicked-looking weapon, and yet…boaters planning to put ashore on an island might readily have one. In fact, he was using it for the exact purpose one might expect in such a circumstance—chopping away at the heavy growth.
“I think it was here,” Sandy said wearily.
“Here is an awfully damn big space,” Brad said irritably.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a small island.”
“Way too small, at the moment. We should have realized. It’s a weekend.”
“Should we just quit moaning and start looking?”
Beth adjusted her footing ever so slightly. Behind her, Keith did likewise. He seemed to have no intention of letting her go, accosting the pair or letting his own presence be known. She could feel the coiled tension in him. He was listening intently.
Were they looking for a skull?
And if Keith Henson didn’t know about the skull, why would he be so worried about a young couple searching a clearing on the island?
She turned slightly, looking up at him as Brad hacked away at overhanging fronds and branches. He shook his head, warning her that she shouldn’t move, shouldn’t give herself away.
A fly buzzed near her nose. She began to wonder just how long she could stand so perfectly still. Yet, her own heart continued to race, and her suspicions were hiked to the limit, every fiber of her being attuned to danger.
“I hear something,” Sandy announced suddenly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brad told her.
“No, no, I hear something. From the beach.”
“They’re fishing.”
“They’re not all fishing.”
“So
