to get a concussion from a girl, is that it?”
He came to his feet and strode away from her, stopped as far as the crate allowed, then stared back. An image of buffalo came into her mind, pawing the snow, blowing steam out of his nose. No need to share that with him.
She gave him a minute before she followed. “How far is the nearest seaport?”
“Trieste would be two hours at the most.”
She considered options and backup options, trying to come up with an escape plan. “What do you think will happen when we get there?”
“If we’re lucky, they’ll open the container to transfer the stolen goods. That’ll give us a chance to make a break for it.”
“I don’t believe in luck.” She peered through the darkness and tried to map the place.
The prince gave a brief nod. “Me neither.”
So for two hours they searched every corner, tried to find a weak spot where they could break out—there wasn’t one—and made plans on what they’d do once the riverboat reached port and the container would be opened.
Except that it wasn’t.
No sooner did the boat stop moving than they felt the container lift as a crane hoisted it in the air. She slid against the prince who in turn slid against the back wall, then shifted quickly to the side, saving them from being crushed to death by some unstable crates.
He wedged himself into the corner and held off what had to be a couple of hundred pounds with his bare hands. Then the container settled with a loud clunk and everything stopped moving.
“I take it this would be the ocean liner,” she said, a little rattled, which annoyed her. She didn’t like thinking that the prince might have just saved her. She prided herself on being a self-sufficient woman. She didn’t want to owe anything to any stuck-up, prejudiced Valtrian royalty.
She handed his gun back to him, a kind of payback, she supposed.
“I’m not too keen on going on an ocean voyage at the moment.” Prince Istvan strode to the front and pointed at the lock from the inside. “Are you sure you can’t open this?”
“Not with my bare hands.” That was as close to admitting her shady past as she was comfortable with.
“I have a tool for you.” He pointed the mean-looking handgun in the general direction. “Show me where to shoot.”
“It’ll be too loud.”
“Not if I shoot just as they rattle the next container into place.”
She felt around in the near darkness, then grabbed the barrel of the gun and pressed it against the right spot.
“Here.”
He aimed. They waited. Then when they could hear chains creak and the corner of the next container bump against another, he squeezed off a shot. Inside the container, the sound seemed deafening. But she had a feeling that with all the machinery and the noise of the harbor outside, it had been barely noticeable. Still, they waited a few minutes. When no one raised the alarm and no one came to investigate, the prince drew back, then slammed his shoulder into the door before she could stop him.
That had to hurt. She winced.
“Patience.” She stepped over to examine the damage to the lock. “You’ll need at least one more shot.”
Except that the crane seemed to move on to the other side of the ship. He waited on the spot anyway, in case the crane came back. It didn’t. An hour or so later they felt the ship shudder, the engines start and the ground move under their feet. Istvan used that distraction to fire off his second shot, which did the trick at last.
This time when he shoved his shoulder into the door, it opened.
Four inches.
Just enough for them to see that they were blocked in by another container in front of them.
“Trapped.” She closed her eyes for a moment against the disappointment and frustration. She could have banged her head against the metal. They should have done something much sooner, on the riverboat. But the prince had thoroughly distracted her, and now it was too late. The very reason she always worked alone. A partner was nothing but trouble.
“Going in an unknown direction on a strange ship,” he thought out loud. His voice sounded off.
“A ship that’s controlled by criminals.” Not that she blamed all this on him. Maybe a little. If he’d let her do her work in the treasury earlier, she would have been done and gone by the time the thieves got there. He would have still suspected her, but she could have been dealing with that unfair cloud of suspicion at the five-star hotel where the Getty was putting her up, instead of here.
“Or your friends. Although, the two might not be mutually exclusive, I suspect.” Apparently, he still harbored some mistrust of her.
“People we don’t want to meet up with,” she offered as compromise. “At this point, if they found us, they’d kill both of us. They sure didn’t hesitate shooting the guards at the treasury.” The memory turned her mood even more somber. “And they will find us. If not sooner, then when they come to get the loot.”
The more she thought of that, the bigger that lead ball grew in her stomach.
And bigger yet when he said, “Just so we’re clear, I still think that you’re involved in this in some way. And when we get out of here and I return the crown jewels to the treasury, I will figure out what your role has been. And then I’ll personally see to it that you’re prosecuted to the full extent of Valtrian law, Miss Steler.”
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