his broad chest, making James even more thankful he’d made the effort to stay in shape over the school year. He managed to set the champagne flute on the railing and curved his arm back around her, moving his fingers down to her finely sculpted rear and squeezing gently.
Rachel broke their kiss with a soft gasp. “Hey now, what do you think my family would say if they came out here and saw you taking liberties like that?”
James didn’t relinquish his hold on her for a moment. “They’d see a man who is head-over-heels in love with you—which just might get my ass kicked, depending on who saw who first.”
“Fortunately for you, the masters of the universe are still backslapping each other belowdecks, leaving us with a few more minutes....” Rachel tilted her head up again, sending an invitation James didn’t hesitate to accept. He leaned down again, his lips about to hungrily devour hers when something on the ocean caught his eye.
“Mmm, what was that?” Despite the glorious distraction right in front of him, Barrett raised his head to try to get a better view of what he’d spotted.
“With me warm and willing in your arms, you pick now to find a dolphin?” Rachel mock-teased him, turning in his arms to look off the starboard bow.
“It wasn’t a dolphin. It looked more like a bunch of driftwood, but with something on top. Hang on a sec.”
James disentangled himself from Rachel’s embrace and walked to the other railing, grabbing a handheld battery-powered searchlight as he approached the rail. Flicking on the million-candlepower light, he swept the incandescent beam back and forth across the water.
“There!” Rachel grabbed his hand and redirected the light. “Is that it?”
“Yeah. Jesus, someone’s out there!” James played the beam over the small mass, which looked like a crude raft cobbled together out of scrapwood and two oil barrels lashed together. What might have been a small pile of rags on top was actually a child’s body, lying motionless on the small platform’s surface. The makeshift float drifted toward them in the calm water, about thirty yards ahead off the right side.
“Holy shit! Call the bridge, have them turn to starboard. I’ll see if I can snag it.” Rachel grabbed an intercom handset from the wall while Barrett snatched a long boat hook from the wall rack and ran to the back of the vessel. Feeling the deck shift slightly underneath him, he realized the captain had turned toward the raft.
As he passed by a door, it opened and a crew member stepped out, followed by Stuart, one of Rachel’s brothers. “Can I be of assistance, sir?”
“Yeah, there’s a kid on a raft to starboard. I’m gonna try to snag him as we pass.” Barrett led the two men to the rear of the boat, where he stepped onto the flat deck used for launching smaller boats or personal watercrafts.
“Would you rather that I take care of this, sir?” The mate was as insistent as he could be under the circumstances, even gently reaching out for the pole with one hand.
James shook his head. “No, I’ve got it, but I’d appreciate some backup just in case it’s heavier than it looks.”
“Careful. You don’t want to take a dip out here, James. Sharks, you know.” Nattily attired in khaki shorts and a pressed tropical shirt, Stuart lounged against the wall, drink in hand, content to let the other two men take the lead.
“Just make sure I don’t go in with it.”
“I’ve got you, sir.” The mate was polite, with a subtle British accent. Barrett tried not to think too much about how he was being supported, with the man’s arm around his waist, but his eyes focused on the raft, now just a few yards away. He reached out with the pole and caught a board, only to have it tear free when he tried to draw the rickety vessel closer, making it rock back and forth.
“Careful, James!” Rachel, her robe wrapped around herself, watched from the walkway.
“I’m trying, dear. Almost...got him...” Barrett stretched out again and wedged his hook into a gap between two boards, hearing the scrape of metal on metal. He pulled the pole in, watching the platform move closer. “Get ready to grab him.”
“Right.” The raft bumped the corner of the luxury yacht, and the steward reached down and plucked the huddled boy, who remained curled in a ball, on board. “I’ve got him.”
“Rachel, get some food and water. He’s probably dehydrated.” James pushed the raft away, sending the rickety pile of wood and barrels spinning into the night.
“I’m on it.” She disappeared into the ship.
“We’ll probably need a blanket, as well—” Barrett’s words were interrupted by the kid, who suddenly unfolded himself and wriggled out of the crew member’s arms. What was even more surprising was the ugly black pistol he pointed at the man, the weapon large in his small hands.
“Chuò! Chuò!”
“What the hell?” Stuart, for all his supposed indolence, took a step forward, only to have the muzzle of the pistol swivel to cover him. He raised his hands, not alarmed enough yet to put his drink down.
“What’s going on?” Barrett didn’t take his eyes off the gun, estimating the distance between him and the boy, who couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. The boat hook was still in his hand, but he was careful not to draw attention to it.
“He told us to stop. He might be a decoy for pirates.”
“Damn, we need to disarm him and warn the others.” Stuart shifted his weight, drawing the boy’s flat stare. At that, Barrett lashed out with the hook, trying to knock the gun aside, or even better, right out of the boy’s hand.
Catching the movement from the corner of his eye, the boy ducked under Barrett’s swipe and swung the gun over toward him, which spit flame as he pulled the trigger. Barrett felt a sudden stab of pain in his abdomen, and looked down to see an expanding spot of dark wetness on his shirt.
“Little bastard...shot me...” Barrett leaned against the railing as the steward leaped forward to grab the pistol, wrenching it out of the boy’s grasp. Distracted, he didn’t notice the shadowy form that came around the corner of the yacht and slipped up behind him.
Barrett tried to shout a warning, but Stuart and the crew member were talking at the same time, calling for the physician. Their shouts for help mixed with the foreign curses and cries of the wriggling boy. The steward’s voice was cut off with a gasp as the shadow came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his throat, doing something that made the man arch his back, his expression a grimacing mask of agony. The other man, a short, wiry Asian dressed in shapeless black pants and shirt, stepped back and let his victim fall to the formerly spotless deck, now dappled with Barrett’s blood. A large knife, its blade dark and gleaming wet, was in his hand.
“Shit!” Stuart hurled his drink into the man’s face, the glass shattering against his cheek and making him drop his blade and clutch his face, screaming in pain. “Come on, buddy!” He grabbed Barrett and hoisted him up, slinging his limp arm over his shoulder.
“Rachel...don’t let them get Rachel...” James found it suddenly hard to think. His free hand, clamped over his wound, was soaked in blood, and he knew if he didn’t get help soon, he would die.
“Let’s
