Kay Hooper - Captains Paradise

Contents

When Robin Stuart was plucked, drenched and shivering, from the stormy seas, she clung desperately to the arms that had reached for her - but had she escaped from one terror into another? She'd been too close to danger not to recognize it again in the savagely beautiful man who'd pulled her from the water. Michael Siran was tough, fearless, confident - and an expert at playing dangerous games, but from the moment the terrified siren with bewitching eyes grabbed him and held on tight, he was captured by something he could never let go. Michael trusted no one, but Robin insisted on sharing his mission, determined to prove herself by facing the demons that had always pursued her. Michael knew the odds were against them, but when the heat of Robin's need fed his own fire, a passion born in turmoil and fueled by peril made hedging his bets impossible...Could he make her understand that heroes are human, that her courage ran as deep as his love?

Hagen was annoyed. He was always irritated by delays in the execution of his plans, and since this was a particularly vital plan, he was more than usually annoyed.

"Where?" he demanded, speaking flatly into the mouthpiece of his telephone, equipped with a scrambler.

"Just gone, and his men with him." The voice that replied to Hagen's question sounded hollow because of the scrambler, yet not even the technological device to prevent interception of telephone conversations could leach from it all indications of a strong and dynamic personality.

"You can't even tell me where?" Hagen asked.

A rueful sigh came over the wire, and the voice replied with an underlying layer of mockery that made Hagen grit his teeth. "No, I can't. I've been tracking that bunch for months, as you very well know, but this time they've given me the slip. Sue me. Now, if you want the women"

"No," Hagen said, allowing himself to grimace since he was alone in his office. "That's the quickest way of committing suicide I know." He muttered the comment, but his voice was clear and distinct nonetheless.

"That's was my reading of the situation. In any case, the bait for your trap is momentarily out of reach. I'll keep looking if you like, but I have to tell you the chances are slim until he decides to surface again. I wouldn't be surprised to find out he'd gone to ground."

"What?" For the first time, Hagen was honestly shaken. "Impossible!"

"Chief, every soul in that whole bunch has terrific instincts. You may think your little tests these last months have been subtle, but what you left out of the plan was a culprit."

"There was no need to"

"No?" the voice interrupted sardonically. "You think they aren't going to get suspicious when some unnamed enemy tests their security more than once? If I were in the place of any one of them, I'd be very busily trying to find out what the hell was going on. You'd better take it as a yesthat's what they're doing."

Hagen was silent for a moment, then offered what he knew was a weak objection. "They wouldn't leave the women unprotected."

"Unprotected? Remember what Kipling said about the female of the species, Chief? Take that as a yes too. Those ladies need protecting about as much as a battleship does. You want my advice, you'd better back off for a while."

Hagen ignored the advice. "Where's the yacht?"

"Corsair ? No sign of her in her usual area. They may be aboard her, but she could be in the South China Sea for all I know."

"Have you checked with Captain Siran? He may"

"Sorry, Chief. He's unavailable."

Hagen's voice began to lose its forced patience. "Why is he unavailable?"

"Took a leave of absence for personal reasons."

"What aren't you telling me?"

There was a brief silence, and then the voice said, "Just that you can't count on Siran at the moment, Chief. He has his own fish to fry."

Hagen heard more than the words. Bluntly he asked, "Daniel, what's going on?"

The sigh this time wasn't wry or mocking; it was weary. "What goes around comes around. The captain has his hands full with a specter out of his past."

"He's alone?"

"He didn't even give me a chance to argue with him."

After a moment Hagen said, "If anyone can handle himself, it's Siran. I could have used his help, however."

"Yes. Well, your plans are on hold for the time being."

"You're absolutely sure you can't locate them?"

"Afraid I can't. You wouldn't think a public figure of his prominence could disappear so quickly or so thoroughly, but he does seem to have the knack of it. So you have two choices, Chief. Either wait until he shows himselfhowever long that takesor try to find out where he is from one of the ladles. The former being preferable to the latter, if you ask me."

Hagen swore softly. "Agreed. If I show any interest at all, Raven will be onto it instantly."

"You train your agents too well," Daniel noted dryly.

"That wouldn't bother me so much," Hagen retorted irritably, "if only they'd remain my agents." He sighed. "I don't suppose you'd be interested?"

Daniel chuckled softly. "No. You and I would no doubt lock horns. No, thank you; I'll stick to my own bailiwick."

Unsurprised, Hagen said, "It was worth a try. Well, keep me advised. And, if you hear from Siran, let me know."

"Yes."

The connection was broken.

When she was plucked, drenched and shivering, from the angry gray-green Atlantic, her first instinct, her only instinct, was to cling with all her remaining strength to the warm, wet arms that had saved her. And cling she did, like a desperate thing, until the man managed to break her grip and wrap her in a dry blanket.

A part of her consciousness was aware of being stripped of her wet clothing, swiftly and efficiently, of being dried briskly and dressed in something loose that was thick and warm. A cup was held to her lips and a fiery liquid flowed between her teeth, stopping their chattering. Then the softness of bedding was beneath her.

After that, only blackness, but it was blessedly warm and dry.

Her sluggish, weary mind surfaced a few times, vaguely aware of a faint light, of the lifting/falling motion of a boat on the sea. But nothing really registered, no single impression demanded that she think, and so she did not. She slept.

When she finally woke to the dim understanding that she was not where she should be but that where she was was better, the soft light still burned and the rocking motion had lessened. In an instant she identified the tiny cabin of a boat.

She was on a boat. But... she had escaped from the boat. Terror stirred in her sluggish mind, thick and suffocating. Or had it been a dream?

A dream. All a dream, of course, especially the bad parts. It was such a comforting notion that she accepted it instantly.

"Drink this."

It was a command, uttered in a hard masculine voice. Inured to commands delivered by hard masculine voices, she obeyed. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she accepted a cup from a sun-browned hand. Sipping, she identified coffee laced with brandy. It tasted good. Only then did she raise her eyes to look hesitantly at the man.

The rest of him was sun-browned too, she saw. And since he was wearing only swim trunks and an unfastened windbreaker, she could see a great deal of his muscled body. It looked as hard as his voice and obviously possessed the kind of raw strength that could never have been earned in a gym. He had almost-black hair and sharp eyes and was, she thought, the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Still, she had been too close to danger too recently not to recognize it in this man. It was apparent not only in his tight jaw and firmly held lips and in the strange, shuttered gleam of his gray eyes; danger was an almost visible aura surrounding him, enclosing him.