He’s the one she can’t remember, she’s the one he can’t forget...

Tossed overboard, Ava Adams had been left for dead, drifting at sea. But security specialist Faisal Al-Nassar was determined to find her. He owed her father a great debt and had never forgotten the connection he and Ava had once shared. Yet after rescuing Ava he discovered she barely remembered him.

Amnesia had left Ava uncertain of who had tried to kill her. She did know, however, that Faisal was a man she could trust. The sheik’s embrace was familiar and enticing...and possibly even more dangerous. How could she succumb to feelings for her protector when what she didn’t know could get them both killed?

“Ava, it’s me, Faisal.”

She hadn’t heard right and yet she had. The voice, the words, even the shoes. It all came together. All of it was familiar. The fear fell away. She relaxed in his arms, her heart pounding a zillion times an hour.

“If I let you go, promise me you won’t run,” he said.

“It’s a mistake to be here with me.”

His arm eased and she slid down, landing on her feet and turning to face him.

The look he gave her was both intimidating and full of concern. “You could have died, running the way you did.”

“But I didn’t,” she said obstinately as if her earlier fears had been based on nothing but her imagination. “It was a mistake to follow me,” she repeated, for he hadn’t responded the first time she’d said it. “Fai,” she whispered. “You need to get out of here. Trust me.”

“We’ll get out of here together. It’s what I do, protect.”

Sheikh Defence (Sheik Defense)

Ryshia Kennie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RYSHIA KENNIE has received a writing award from the City of Regina, Saskatchewan, and was also a semifinalist for the Kindle Book Awards. She finds that there’s never a lack of places to set an edge-of-the-seat suspense, as prairie winters find her dreaming of warmer places for heart-stopping stories. They are places where deadly villains threaten intrepid heroes and heroines who battle for their right to live or even to love. For more, visit www.ryshiakennie.com.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

If you are reading this dedication, this one is for you.

You are the reason this book was published.

Thank you and enjoy.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Friday, June 10—11:00 p.m.

“Son of a...”

The broken expletive was followed by a bang that seemed to echo through the bowels of the yacht.

Ava Adams’s eyelids fluttered. Fitfully, she turned once, then twice. The yacht shifted and rocked in the waves. It had been a late night yesterday and the day before, not to mention the fact that this trip had been completely unexpected. She was dreaming—there was no reason to get up, not yet...not for hours yet.

Still, she shivered. Her sleep was skating on the edge of consciousness—what was reality and what was not were no longer clear. In her dream, she only knew that she needed to escape. She flung one arm out grazing the wall, causing her to turn to her other side.

She opened her eyes. She wasn’t fully awake. She didn’t even take in her surroundings before immediately closing her eyes again. But she couldn’t shift as deep into sleep as she’d been. In fact, now with her eyes closed, her consciousness was heating up. She could see through the curtain of lashes. The moonlight drifted in a faint stream of light across the sheet that twisted around her waist. Her breathing leveled out and she fell asleep again. This time the sleep was even lighter than it had been before—more troubled. She didn’t know how long she slept. She only knew that it wasn’t long before she was again awakened. This time by sounds that she couldn’t ignore. They were loud against the background of the once calm rocking of the boat. Her senses came awake, first noting the change in smell. She inhaled, long and slow. She’d done that often in the two days that they’d been anchored in this cove. She loved the hint of vanilla that was so pervasive and wove through the salty scent of ocean, of seawater. Oddly, the vanilla scent was gone.

“To hell—” a man’s voice rose in a shout. It was a shout that seemed to be cut off as if forcibly stopped. He might have said something else. Words that jumbled in the scuffle and chaos of noise that preceded a crash, followed by another.

It was only a nightmare. It was a figment of her imagination. A result of the stress of stepping from one world into another; from academia into the world of a self-sufficient adult. Two weeks from today she was moving to Casper, Wyoming. At twenty-five and with a doctorate in psychology under her belt, it was about time. At least that was what she’d told herself. Her father had encouraged her to take all the time she needed. She knew that was a way of keeping her close, of keeping her dependent on him. Even though she had lived her own life, in her own apartment, paying as many of her college bills herself as she could with money she had made by occasionally tutoring other students, still she had relied on him. It gave him a chance to be the father he hadn’t gotten to be when she truly had been a child. She’d allowed him that. For he’d become her parent in her latter childhood. It had been through marriage, but stepparent or not, she couldn’t ask for a better father. Now they were making up for lost time. Thus, this trip. They both needed it—the time to be together. Life had gotten busy.

She hovered in the abyss between sleeping and wakefulness. But soon sleep was completely chased away as the shouts rose in volume. More disturbing was the absolute silence that followed. That brought her to full consciousness. She was still, hardly breathing, straining to hear. Were the voices real or only her imagination, or part of a dream? Seconds ticked by. She lay tense, unmoving. The conversation she’d had with her father earlier ran uninvited through her mind. Some, if not all, of the things he had said had been disturbing. He said he was concerned that his partner had gotten himself into a situation with fraudulent land sales. She’d begged him to give her details but he’d refused to say more. He had many projects and thus many people he’d partnered with and he hadn’t given her a name. Instead, he told her that what he’d said and what was recorded in a Texan town would be enough, if it were ever necessary, for her to take evidence to the authorities.

What was going on? There was the sound of heavy footsteps, scuffling and another shout. Something banged above her, as if something or someone had hit the deck hard.

Besides herself, there were two other people on board. Her father and his business partner, a man she didn’t know well. The arrival of Ben Whyte had been a surprise to both of them. They’d just been settling in for the night when he’d arrived on a small fishing boat. The fisherman had dropped him off and left. Neither of them had expected him. This had been their vacation—she’d sailed here to Paradise Island, Bahamas, from St. Croix with her father after he’d issued the last-minute invitation. It had been peaceful until Ben had arrived. Almost immediately, she hadn’t liked the tension that Ben seemed to generate. But the initial tension between him and her father later dissolved once they began telling boisterous sports stories. She’d retired for the night as they joked about the antics of a coach on the football field. But the joking she’d left less than an hour earlier was a far cry from what she was hearing now.

Things didn’t sound too friendly anymore. A curse, a series of banging and scuffling sounds that echoed through the boat. She sat up, her heart pounding.

Another shout had her tense, clenching the sheet. One foot poised on the edge of the bed as she tried to decide whether this was dream or reality. Something crashed, a hollow bang like someone had hit a wall, or the floor. The sounds escalated in volume, an angry shout followed but the words were incomprehensible.

She grabbed her phone. The thought of calling for help crowded out the other possibilities. She wasn’t sure who she would be calling or why. What would the local police do about a situation that was unknown even to herself? She needed to find out what was going on, if her father needed help, if...

Footsteps thudded over her head. Their heavy tread was oddly ominous when combined with everything that had preceded them. Then something else banged, a dull sound that seemed to echo through the boat. Something had fallen and hit the deck just a little to the right of where she now sat.

“What’s going on?” she muttered. She flicked on the lamp by the side of the bed. Soft light bathed the room, chasing away the shadows but not the odd noises from above deck. She got out of bed. Blindly, she grabbed something to throw on. A silk wrap that she’d purchased only this morning with no intention of wearing here. It was a garment made for when she had a boyfriend. It was an enticing garment. Now, it was only the first cover at hand.

She stood there for seconds. The seconds could have been a minute, maybe less, maybe more. She considered her options. But her options were unclear in a situation that was as dark as the night around her. All she knew was that something was very off. The silence that had descended in the last seconds was almost as ominous as what had preceded it. A shiver ran down her spine as she left the room. She moved through the tight passageway, slipping past the galley, which was lit only by a thin streak of moonlight that streamed through a porthole to her left. Memory guided her to the narrow metal stairs that led above deck. She was afraid to turn on any more lights, for that might alert whoever was on deck. She wouldn’t think of the fact that there might be strangers, a threat of some sort aboard the yacht. Her fingers quivered and the phone shook in her damp palm.

Only a few hours earlier she had been able to see through a porthole the shadow of the shoreline. Now, there was nothing but a dark, endless stretch of water. That was odd. But even more odd was the fact that the boat was rocking as if it were on open water.

She wished she’d grabbed her slippers, for the narrow passage was chilly against her bare feet. She could only hope that what she heard was nothing, a silly argument, a bit of a wind above deck that had knocked things over. But her thoughts were stopped midstream by another crash directly above her. She jumped and bit back a scream as she dropped her phone. In the dark she couldn’t see it. She felt around. Seconds passed and then a minute, maybe two. It was futile. She couldn’t waste any more time searching for the phone for above her something was terribly wrong.

She took the remaining steps two at a time. She pushed open the door onto the deck. She was met by a wind that seemed to come out of nowhere and wrapped a chill breeze around her, lifting the silk from her body. She held the wrap down with one hand and pushed forward, determined to find out what was going on, to put an end to it. Seconds seemed to become minutes. She stumbled and lost her footing on the rain-slicked deck.

Her breath caught in her throat when she stepped around the wheelhouse. The moonlight lit the deck revealing two men locked together, struggling. She froze and then she took a choked breath. She covered her mouth to block the involuntary beginning of a scream.

Time seemed to stop. She could almost hear the tick of her vintage, manual-wind wristwatch as she took in details. Blood stained her father’s white polo shirt. But that wasn’t what frightened her the most. Instead, it was the man who stood mere inches behind her father.

The moonlight revealed the face of the man. Ben Whyte. Like her father, Ben was in his late fifties. Now it was clear that her initial feelings about the man were not misplaced. The thought pierced her shock as she put her right hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

It wasn’t possible.

Her brain, her feet—everything had frozen at the shock and horror of what lay ahead of her. Things like what she was seeing only happened on television. Not to normal everyday people like her and her father. And yet she knew her father wasn’t normal. He was a wealthy philanthropist. But that wasn’t the issue. Or was it?

The moonlight was glinting off the black barrel of the handgun that Ben had aimed at her father. The handgun’s deadly gloss seemed to wink in the muted light of the deck. Worse, that same barrel was against her father’s head. Time seemed to make the moment unendingly long when she knew that it was only seconds. She hadn’t had time to think, to react, to recover from the shock. She could only watch this like it wasn’t real, like it was happening to someone else. Because before she could move, her father twisted, grabbed Ben’s gun hand and slammed it against the railing. Once, twice—the gun dropped and skidded across the deck.

“No! What are you doing?” Her voice seemed loud in the sudden silence. Vaguely, she realized that she hadn’t shouted at all, that her cry had been no more than a whimper. She was behind and to the side of them and neither one of the men had seen or heard her. She glanced around the deck as if the answer to her father’s plight lay there.

Unarmed, in bare feet and a silk wrap, with shaking hands, she was no one’s hero. She looked around for a weapon, something to leverage her defense of her father. There was nothing.

Moonlight spilled over the surface of the water. She could see nothing but an endless tract of ocean around them. There was no sign of land, of Paradise Island or of the beautiful cove that they had docked in. They were in open water with no land in sight. But as much as that frightened her, the scene in front of her frightened her more.

One calamity had replaced another. Ben had her father by the throat.

“Dad!” This time the words crept past her frozen throat. This time the words weren’t just her imagination. But still they were no help.

“Stay back!” Her father choked out the words with what seemed more willpower than strength, for she’d had to strain to hear him.

But rage flooded her and, despite her earlier doubts, she only knew that she had to join forces with her father. Take this threat down no matter what the odds. They could do it together, as a team—as her father always said they could. Of course, he’d meant much smaller, much less threatening situations than this. It didn’t matter. This was life and death. It was, for whatever reason, them against him.

“What are you doing?” She flew at her father’s attacker. The fact that the man had, a few hours ago, greeted her with all the cordiality of a long-lost friend, was now lost to her.

He was the enemy and she’d do anything in her power to stop him. Fueled by panic and a desperate kind of bravery, she grabbed his arm, trying to free her father.

“Let go!” she screeched. Her nails raked his cheek. Her actions were as desperate as she knew they were ineffective. There was no choice, there was only her and her father, who she feared would die without her help.

The punch hit her in the jaw and dropped her to her knees. She remembered nothing after that. She came in and out of consciousness. Minutes could have passed, even hours—she didn’t know. The deck offered her its slick, rocking comfort as her face pressed against the cool surface.

As consciousness returned once more, the one thing that was clear was the silence. She struggled to keep her eyes open. Her head pounded and she lost consciousness again for a minute, a second—she wasn’t sure.

This time when she came to she was groggy but able to sit up. As she did she saw the shadow of something against the wheelhouse. She tried to stand and slipped. Her hand caught her fall. She looked up, blinking, trying to clear her vision. She saw that Ben had somehow managed to get the pistol. But he had no chance to use it, for her father’s arm came up. His arm smashed into his assailant, knocking him backward, sending the pistol flying.

“Go!” Her father waved. He glanced her way for just a second. Then, he was pulled back into a chokehold. His assailant had taken advantage of his brief distraction. Her father directed her with his eyes. Glancing to a place behind her. There was a life raft and she knew that he wanted her to leave, to leave him alone with his attacker.

“No!” she screamed, scrambling to her feet. She clenched her fists—her hands were empty. No phone. But something else caught her eye. It was the hammer her father had used earlier to fix the back ladder. She grabbed it.

Despite her earlier failure, she wasn’t willing to give up. She’d do whatever it took to help her father. She wasn’t thinking straight. She was unschooled in any sort of self-defense but desperate times called for desperate measures. Her attack could confuse, muddy the waters, give her father an opening. And with that her only thought, she charged forward. She was unaware of the breeze that lifted her short sleep T-shirt revealing her upper thighs. Unaware that the silk wrap had slipped off her shoulders or that it floated behind her. Her father choked as Ben crushed his throat with one arm. But she’d caught Ben’s attention, she could feel his eyes on her and that was all she needed. She’d become the distraction and hopefully by doing that give her father enough of an edge to get free. Unfortunately, she could see from the look on his face that the only thing that stood between her and rape was her father. If her father died...

Ben looked at her with eyes filled with lust. He smiled in a way that held an ugly promise, one no woman would fail to recognize and one no woman would ever want. It made her feel dirty and terrified at once. She was frightened not just for her father but for herself. Too late, she realized her mistake. She should have put something else on, anything but what she had grabbed in her panic.

She’d never trusted him. She wished she’d told her father that. But it was too late. As if killing her father wasn’t enough... It wouldn’t happen. Her father wasn’t dead and no matter how many times she had to remind herself of that, it wouldn’t happen.

She raised the hammer and brought it down, catching Ben in the shoulder. He roared, releasing his grip on her father, reaching for her.

“Dad!” she screamed as she scrambled to get away from Ben.

Her father slammed Ben’s arm into the wheelhouse. He buried his fist in the man’s midsection, throwing him off balance. Another punch hit him in the jaw and Ben gasped for breath. His third punch knocked Ben down.

“Run, Ava!” her father shouted and didn’t give her a chance to consider before he had grabbed her hand. Together they ran, stumbling, propping each other up heading for the back of the yacht.

“Get in the life raft,” he hissed in an urgent undertone. “Get out of here. I’ll catch up. Once I...” His words were slurred. A tooth was broken and blood streamed from his mouth. His hair was wild and his eyes glazed. “Go.” He was half lifting her over the edge of the yacht, giving her no option. She shook her head. Her fractured thoughts spun.

“Call Faisal!” her father said with a shove that had her landing in the dinghy. “Al-Nassar,” he added as if she wouldn’t know who he meant with just his given name. There was no other Faisal who had been in their life. But why call him now? Then she remembered—Nassar Security. There was no time for thoughts or justifications—there was no time for anything. They needed to get out of here. Already her father was undoing the ropes that attached the small craft to the yacht.

“No.” She couldn’t leave him alone. “Come with me!”

“This is the only way you can help me, kid.” It was the pet name he’d always used for her, and still did despite her recent quarter-of-a-century status. He’d teased her on her birthday about how old she was and how old that made him.

Her eyes met his.

“Go.”

“No.” The word was strangled, panicked. As if she had any choice. She was already below deck level and had to look up. “If you stay, so do I. I won’t leave you alone.”

He was so banged up. She couldn’t leave him.

“I need you to go,” he said firmly. “I can’t be distracted trying to save you. I need to know you’re safe.”

It was his way of promising that he’d make it.

She knew there was nothing she could say to change his mind. Her teeth were pressing so hard into her lip that she tasted blood. And none of that stopped the shaking, the fear for both of them and for him especially.

“I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

“Here.” She stood up, fighting for balance as she reached up and handed him the hammer. She had to trust that he’d be safe. There was no help for it. He’d taken the option of choice from her. And she could see now that the life raft was so small it might sink under the weight of both of them.

He took the hammer, his fingers brushing hers, and at the same time pushed something into her hand. She didn’t look but only closed her hand around the damp plastic.

“Call...” He wiped a trail of blood from his upper lip. His nose was bleeding, the blood mixing with that from his lip and trailing down his chin. “Al-Nassar. The number’s there,” he reminded her in a voice that was pitched only for her. Behind them she could see his assailant struggling to his feet.

“Go!” The word echoed like the needless repetition it was. She had no choice. Choice was the option that had been removed from her arsenal. Her father had decided. She would be safe and he would face... She couldn’t think, didn’t know. She only knew that she was alone.

“Dad...” That one word trailed, bottomless and hopeless. For there was nothing to say.

A gunshot had her on her knees with a scream as the raft rocked and threatened to tip. She clutched the rope lashed to the side. The raft settled enough that she could look up. There was no doubt that what she’d heard was a handgun. She’d heard them many times, on the firing range with her father.

Her head spun and she sat back down. When she looked up to where she had last seen her father, he was gone. Waves pushed against the side of the life raft taking it farther from the yacht. She needed to get to shore, get help. She pulled the engine cord, grimacing at the old-fashioned technology. Her father was usually the first to buy the newest and latest, except for the life raft. Its age was jarring in the scheme of everything else that was always so top-of-the-line. She yanked the cord again. Her arm ached and nothing happened.

Her father’s last words seemed to spin in an endless reel through her mind.

Faisal. She had to call Faisal.

It was her last thought before she passed out in a heap in the middle of the dinghy.

* * *

BEN WASN’T SURE how it had happened. But he’d gotten lucky and landed in the water. He’d just missed hitting his head on the way down. He’d seen Dan fall overboard. But then he’d fallen in himself. It didn’t matter, he’d planned to swim for shore anyway. He’d shot Dan first and he’d gone over a dead man. The yacht was on autopilot, its navigational system dead, heading somewhere out to sea. In other circumstances he might have laughed. It would keep the authorities occupied trying to find the boat.

There was only one threat left and that was the little witch of a daughter Dan had managed to dump in the life raft. There’d been nothing he could do to stop him. It had all happened so fast. He felt a twinge of regret. Now Dan was gone and the yacht was already too far away to be a consideration. He’d raised the anchor before the altercation began.

He swam toward shore. He’d locked in his mind in what direction and how far away they had drifted. Yet, the weather system was moving in faster than had been reported. It was a squall, and that and his aching shoulder had him gulping water and struggling as the weather worsened. Combine the weather with the fact that his clothes weighed him down, and it was rough going. He reached down, wrestling with the laces of his oxfords, finally managing to get them off and tie them to the belt loop of his pants. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He wished he hadn’t had to kill Dan, but once he’d made the decision, he’d accomplished what he’d meant to. He’d shot Dan and he’d fallen overboard. Now there was only one problem he had to resolve before he could become a rich man. The one fly in the ointment was Dan’s daughter. She wasn’t supposed to be on the yacht. Yet, there she’d been like it was her right. He hadn’t liked her the first and only other time he’d met her.

She’d heard too much and she’d injured him. Neither offense could be forgiven. A wave pushed him backward and had him swallowing water. He choked and flipped onto his back, resting, thinking. He had to get to shore and then he had to find Ava Adams, and when he did, the little witch had to die.

Chapter Two

Saturday, June 11

The United States Coast Guard received the first distress call shortly before 0100 hours from BASRA. The acronym stood for the Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association. A volunteer association, their resources were stretched with other cases and they were more than willing to request help. Two hours after the information was in the hands of the United States Coast Guard, that information was relayed to the Wyoming branch of Nassar Security.

It had taken that long for the connection between the owner of the yacht, Dan Adams, and Sheik Faisal Al-Nassar to be made. The connection came from the yacht owner’s electronic log that had also provided their last location off the coast of Paradise Island. Dan Adams had included in the log his next destination and purpose. A meeting in Fort Lauderdale with Faisal Al-Nassar.

Faisal was told that the call for help was made on a cell phone. The call lasted exactly nine seconds and then had broken off and been too short to trace. It had been a male caller who had provided only two words, Mayday and Ava. Ava was Dan’s stepdaughter’s name and the other person aboard that yacht. There was no record of anyone else being on the yacht. The call had ended immediately after that.

Faisal couldn’t believe that the father and daughter were missing. He was reminded of how long it had been since he’d spoken to Ava. While her father had remained in contact, he and Ava had lost touch. Still, the father and daughter were considered friends of the family. Now if it had been possible, Faisal would have left to begin the search immediately. But not only did he have to get to the Jackson, Wyoming, airport where they kept the company jet, the pilot had to ready himself and the craft for takeoff. They followed the twenty-minute rule. That was how long it took the pilot to prepare for takeoff.

Faisal glanced at his snowboard with regret. He’d just hung it up after waxing it and preparing it for a trip to Mount Hood in Oregon where there was enough snow to board throughout the year. Now that would have to wait. The thoughts of snowboarding were only a way of grounding himself, by thinking of what he loved, before being immersed in a case that was much too personal.

He brought his attention to the immediate as he called his brother Emir. Emir, the oldest in their family and the head of Nassar Security, was located in their head office, which was situated in Marrakech, Morocco. He knew without question that he could count on Emir to relay the plight of their old friend to the rest of the Al-Nassar family.

“Dan and Ava are lost at sea. The US Coast Guard is deployed as is the Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association. Of course, the latter is volunteer. I’m on wing to fly to Florida,” he said abruptly when Emir answered.

“What happened?” Emir asked. “They were on vacation. Last I heard they...” The words ended on an expletive.

“The yacht was last seen just off the coast of Paradise Island, Bahamas. It’s since disappeared off the radar. When I spoke to Dan, he said he was heading to Fort Lauderdale earlier than planned. We had a meeting set up. A change of plans and then they disappear. Is there a connection?” Faisal asked. There was a raw edge to his voice that he made no effort to mute. “Look, I’ve got a plane to catch, I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’ll let the rest of the family know. Dan stuck by us when everyone else thought expanding the business to the United States was a crazy idea. We’ll stick by him now.”

“Definitely,” Faisal said, remembering all Dan had done. The Al-Nassars were an old and revered family in Morocco and Nassar Security was an established business in Marrakech. His family had been anxious to expand and it was partially because of Dan, who had lived in Wyoming at the time, that they had chosen that state. The rest, he knew, had been his own doing. He’d pushed the envelope with his siblings. He loved Wyoming and the wide open spaces. It was where he’d finished his degree. Fresh out of university, he’d been eager to be part of the new venture, especially if he could convince his siblings to choose Wyoming...and he had. He’d loved the new branch from the beginning, particularly because of the challenge. He’d known that in Wyoming his name and status as Sheik Faisal Al-Nassar would not open doors like it did at home. The idea had challenged and excited him. And despite the obstacles, his brothers had agreed—they’d all welcomed the challenge. And so Nassar Security had expanded. Dan had been a mentor to him in the early years.

During that first year of getting a footing in a new country, Dan had been the father that Faisal had lost too young. He shook his head as if that would dislodge memories. He’d never forget how special Dan Adams was to their family. Nor, despite losing touch with her, did he forget how special his daughter had once been to him. In fact, he was reeling more from knowing that Ava too was now considered lost at sea. His mind kept going back to the dark-haired beauty. He’d spent his last year of university with her. He remembered the jokes, the teasing and the parties, and he remembered something else—how she had made him feel.

Three hours later, from one of the Nassar Gulfstream jets, Faisal looked out the window. It was dark and cloudy in the minutes before the sun began to rise. His mind went beyond what he could see to the Atlantic where two people he cared for were now missing.

According to the United States Coast Guard, there had been only one call for help. It was thought to have come from the Adamses’ yacht as that was the only vessel reported missing. They had heard a name but the call had disconnected. There hadn’t been enough to give them a location, nothing. All they had was the name Ava spoken in a male voice.

He pushed back a strand of hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. He should get it cut but there never seemed to be enough time. He’d tried it short but that hadn’t lasted. Ava had once told him that she loved his hair just over the tips of his earlobes and longer if he’d consider it. The latter wasn’t a consideration but the former had stuck in his mind. He’d met her during his senior year in university and they’d become friends. They’d both grown up since then and gone their own ways. That part of his life was long over. At least that’s what he told himself. Except today. He was again faced with the truth. He’d never forgotten her.

“We’ll find them,” he said in an undertone as if saying the words made them somehow more real. Maybe the words made his doubts of success smaller. While the Bahamas were close to the continental United States there was still a lot of ocean to cover. Without coordinates of any kind, they had only guesswork. Despite that and maybe because of it, he was not going to sit around waiting. Dan had planned to see him in Fort Lauderdale—it was up to him to make sure that meeting happened.

His thoughts went back to the last phone call.

Based on what they knew, the Adamses could be anywhere. They were no longer close to Paradise Island’s shoreline. A search by the Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association had already exhausted that option. Wherever they were, whatever had happened, the answers were on that yacht.

* * *

AVA ADAMS OPENED her eyes. Her head ached and something deep inside her hurt. That hurt was overshadowing the thumping that seemed to want to break her skull. Yet it wasn’t pain. Not a physical pain but something more emotional. Fear. Anger. She didn’t know what. Instead, she shivered. She was alone and she wasn’t on the yacht. Where was she?

The yacht was gone. She had no idea what had happened to either it or her father. It had disappeared while she’d slipped out of consciousness. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. Nothing held any relevance, not time nor space—nor anything that had happened. All of it was a frightening blur.

The breeze ran light, cool fingers across her damp skin and she shivered. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious, all she knew was that she was alone and there was no land in sight. Her head pounded and her vision was blurred. She couldn’t see clearly no matter how hard she tried. She was fighting to remain conscious so that she could make that promised call to get help. Her father was counting on her.

The thought made her prop herself up despite her shaking limbs. She tried not to look at the dark water. There was only a thin layer of rubber and canvas between her and it. She couldn’t think of it any more than she could contemplate the fate of her father. All she knew was that the yacht was gone and with it her father. She didn’t know when it had disappeared or if her father was on board or if he was even alive. She struggled to sit up and the world spun. She took a deep breath and passed out.

The next time she came to, she could see that the sun was higher in the sky. It was behind her and she guessed that she might be heading west. She had no idea what that might mean about where she would end up. Or if she would end up anywhere except maybe at the bottom of the ocean.

Fear threatened to overwhelm her even as her gut knotted along with her fists. Her head spun and she had to fight not to black out again. She needed to think and yet she was fighting not to lose consciousness again. She needed to get help not just for her but for her father. He needed her. He was alone.

That thought collided with another. Was her father alive? She’d heard the gunshot as the life raft had slipped away from the yacht, carried by the ocean current. There had been silence after that as she’d drifted farther away.

The gunshot had echoed long after the actual event. The haunting reminder was like an omen. She could die out here and her father could already be dead. Those scenarios were ones she couldn’t, wouldn’t consider. Not anymore. She refused to think of him as anything but alive—just as she was determined to reach land, one way or another.

She took a deep breath and again she fought to sit up. The life raft rocked, threatening what stability it had as water sloshed in the bottom. She wasn’t sure how it had taken on water unless it had been in those first moments as it had gone from the yacht to sea. The sea had been rough. It hadn’t calmed much since then. It was cloudy and the breeze was picking up, only a bit of sun peeked through the otherwise dreary sky.

She had nothing. She looked down. She was virtually naked. The skimpy sleeping outfit had been a bad choice. Fortunately, her father had thrown his jacket over her. Who would have known that a trip that had begun as a lark would end like this?

It wouldn’t end.

Determination shot through her chilled body. She had too much to do with her life. She had a new career that had yet to begin. Again she repeated that promise to herself and to her father. They would live. He would live. They had to.

Something cold pressed against her hip. She slipped her hand under the waistband of her panties and pulled out her father’s phone. She’d forgotten it was there.

Her heart stopped. She remembered that he’d handed it to her. It was a miracle that it had not dropped to the bottom of the dinghy, into the water that was gathering there.

She held it, the memory of her father handing it to her clear in her mind.

“Call Faisal.”

She knew, as did her father, that if anyone could help them, it was Faisal. He headed the powerhouse investigative company run by his family, Nassar Security. At least he was in charge of their Wyoming branch.

The phone slipped in her damp hands.

* * *

“SHEIK FAISAL,” SHE MURMURED. It was an odd thing to say, to even think. But in the chaos and panic of what had happened, she vaguely remembered what now seemed like so long ago. It had been her senior year of college when she’d first met Faisal. He’d transferred in for that last year. He’d been two years older but she’d been two years ahead of her grade. She’d skipped through grade school in six years instead of eight and skipped kindergarten altogether. Although, the latter didn’t count, she’d been the standard age when she’d entered first grade. Odd memories drifted through her mind. Just the mention of his name brought everything back. She couldn’t move, could only fight to remain conscious and all the while she remembered. She’d teased him about his title of Sheik, and he’d hated having it mentioned. It was strange the places her mind wanted to go when there was so little time. Consciousness could slip away as easily as it had returned.

She gripped the phone with the desperation of the survivor she now was. The phone and a man who had once been a friend, who she had once hoped would be more than just friend, were now her only hope.

The sun beamed down through a break in the clouds and instead of offering hope it only reminded her of the passage of time. It was a reminder that her and her father’s chances of survival decreased with every moment that passed.

She swallowed heavily—the world was graying and beginning to spin. She shut her eyes, focusing on one thing, on remaining conscious at least long enough to get help, to contact someone, to...

Everything blanked out.

She didn’t know for how long or what had happened in the time between awareness and when she opened her eyes again. Like before, all she could see was the ocean. She was in the middle of nowhere and drifting to who knew where. If she thought about it too much she might fall into the abyss and succumb to panic. Her hand slid on the slick bottom of the dingy where water was pooling and was now a quarter inch deep. She could sink if this continued. She took a deep breath. She had to remain calm.

She looked at the phone. It was still in her hand. Had it been there all along? How long had she been out this time? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that no more time passed before she called. She pushed a button and the phone’s screen lit up.

“Thank goodness,” she said in a whisper with what seemed the last bit of strength she had. The wind pushed the struggling life raft in a half circle. As the raft shifted direction, she shivered. She didn’t know how long she could stay afloat or where she was. She was dizzy, fighting to stay awake. She had to do this. She clutched the phone as if it were a lifeline, and in a way it was.

She looked at the screen, squinting as her vision blurred. Everything seemed to spin and then stop.

“No,” she whispered. She couldn’t afford to pass out, not before she made this call. Her stomach clenched and her hands shook harder at what was in front of her. But there was no changing the fact that the battery icon was red. Her hand shook harder. She needed to phone now, while there was still some power left. Instead she fainted.

When she came to, the phone was in her lap. She remembered the battery life as if that frightening fact had been etched in her mind. Hopefully there was some juice left and it wasn’t too late. She knew this was her only chance. Without the phone, without this call and a connection there was nothing. Nothing but a hunk of rubber slowly taking on water stood between her and... She couldn’t think of it. She had to remain positive. She had to get hold of Faisal. Her father’s voice telling her to do that wouldn’t leave her head. He’d suggested no one else, just Faisal.

She couldn’t focus, yet she desperately wanted this horror to end. Despite that or because of it, she remembered another time, another place. Faisal. She’d been on the cusp of adulthood and he’d been her everything for such a short time. Now, again he was her everything but in such a different way. He was all that stood between her and death, between her father and death. This time she was counting on him like she never had before.

She took in a shaky breath, pushed herself gingerly up and opened the contacts. She hit Faisal’s number and the screen went black. The battery had run out along with every chance she’d ever had.

Her world started to spin. She tried to force herself to keep conscious and she couldn’t. She slumped sideways as she blacked out. Her last thought was that she was on her own and she didn’t stand a chance. But then the phone hiccupped back to life.

Chapter Three

Saturday, June 11—9:00 a.m.

It had been more than eight hours since the US Coast Guard had received the call from the missing yacht. And despite the time that had passed, they couldn’t pinpoint where the yacht was. They assumed that the vessel’s AIS, Automatic Identification System, a standardized system that would provide the identity, type, position, course, speed, navigational status and other safety-related facts about the vessel, was compromised. Whether that was due to criminal intent or was accidental was yet to be determined.

Faisal had checked the coordinates between Paradise Island and the continental United States. So much could affect the outcome. If it was foul play, that would change everything. If they were suffering engine failure, it could again change everything. And if they were moving under their own steam—doubtful—again, it changed everything. But with nothing to go on, they had to start somewhere.

He glanced over at Craig Vale, the only one of the Nassar team to make this trip with him. Craig was heading north after this to New York to meet up with other members of the tech team. But in the meantime, it was nice to have a researcher on the case. That so rarely happened. They were usually a distant voice via a phone or computer connection.

Faisal shifted his thoughts, focusing on what was ahead. He didn’t like any of it. He was flying into a no-win situation. Yet, despite that, this was what he did and what he thrived on. He might not like it but his adrenaline was kicking in. The personal connection would no longer be at the forefront. In order for this mission to be successful he had to lead with his head, not his heart. It was no different than when his sister, Tara, had been kidnapped. He’d let his oldest brother lead the charge and he’d done the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He’d stayed here, managing their business thousands of miles away from that heartache. In the end, that decision had been the right one. Tara was home and safe.

He dropped the thoughts from his mind. Now, his mind was solely on this case. Rehashing probabilities and possibilities would get him nowhere. In a way, taking the thoughts from his mind, focusing on what was important, was like meditation, which was something he utilized at the beginning of every case. It was a practice he shared with his oldest brother, Emir, and Emir’s wife, Kate, who had introduced him to it. It was something his whole family now practiced. It had made both their business and their family stronger and tighter as a result.

Thoughts of meditation fled as his phone beeped. It was only a notification that they were minutes from landing. He looked out the window of the private jet. Traveling by private jet was one of the many perks that came from wealth. It was also one of many he didn’t give much consideration to. If asked, he would have admitted that he was privileged, lucky in the manner of his birth. It wasn’t something he ever discussed or thought about. It was a fact that had always been. That part of his life, his family’s inherited wealth and status, had been unchanging. He’d been born into wealth that had accrued over generations. It was what he’d always known. But it was this part, Nassar Security and his position as head of the Wyoming branch, that allowed him to play out his dreams of adventure. He couldn’t imagine that anyone had a better life and there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t grateful.

Today was different. Today he faced a tragedy that could touch every member of his family. His phone rang, breaking into his thoughts. He froze and his heart leaped despite his training, which usually allowed him to maintain a cool facade. He held the phone for a split second for Craig to see. It wasn’t a number he recognized. What unknown caller would phone now? He didn’t believe in coincidence and yet he answered, praying to hear Dan’s or Ava’s voice.

Silence and something else. There was a sound that was as recognizable as it was disturbing. It was the sound of waves lapping against a dock or the bow of a boat.

Craig nodded, his blond ponytail bobbing where it skimmed over his collar. His nod confirmed the suspicion they had both had. His full pouty lips seemed at odds with a strong jaw. It was as if nature hadn’t been sure if it was creating a tough guy or pretty boy. Either way, these conflicting traits belied his thirty-five years and made him look more like twenty.

They both held their breath, hoping the connection would hold, that they could get a trace.

“Hello,” he repeated. “Dan?” There was nothing, only silence. The only surety they had was Craig’s confirmation that this was Dan’s number, but was it Dan? What were the odds that the search would begin on a lucky note? On finding a survivor before they’d even landed?

“Who are you? Tell me.” He kept talking, hoping to keep the connection going.

He could hear something that sounded like the crash of a wave. It was different from the first one. This time it was rather like when one wave rolls down into another that is just building to a crest. It was a sound he was familiar with having spent time on a yacht with his family as a child.

He listened closely. He barely dared to breathe, as if even that might drown out other sounds, other clues. He heard what sounded like a soft breath. It wasn’t much but what he’d heard sounded feminine. Feminine and indistinguishable.

The sound of water, the pattern of waves and the call of a seagull. Then there was nothing, only silence.

“Hello.” He wasn’t willing to give up. “Ava? Dan?” He didn’t know if it was either of them. He was only taking a chance and betting on the odds against the fact that it could be anyone else. There’d been two people registered as leaving the dock in that boat.

He glanced at his watch and then over at Craig. As if to confirm his faith in him, Craig nodded and gave a thumbs-up less than a minute after the connection broke.

“I have the coordinates,” Craig said.

Forty minutes later they landed. He left Craig to his own devices as he transferred to a sea rescue helicopter.

“I’d say it was good to see you, but unfortunately I can’t—the circumstances suck,” the pilot, Jer Keller, said. They’d flown together on a number of rescues. Jer was the same age as Faisal. He had married young and already had twin toddlers with his childhood sweetheart. But despite the differences in their home life, they both shared a passion for this. If Nassar Security hadn’t existed, Faisal would have chosen a career in sea rescue. Getting the opportunity to be involved, as rare as it was, was usually a thrill. Not this time.

“At least we have hope that someone lived.” He shook his head. Somehow the way he had pronounced those words sounded grim.

Sam Sanders, a blond man in his midforties, came up to them and shook each of their hands. He was an early retiree from the Coast Guard, an experienced member of Search and Rescue who had helped out as winchman in previous rescues.

“Sam,” Faisal said and clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Wish we met under better circumstances.”

Sam nodded in his quiet, rather stoic way. “Hopefully we’ll be successful and you’ll have use of me.” It was pretty much the last thing he said for the duration of the flight.

They’d been in the air for five minutes when Faisal moved to the back where the side doors were open.

“Better view or just being hopeful?” Jer asked through his mic.

“Both,” he said. There was no way to predict how this was going to turn out despite his hopes. All he knew was that there was a storm brewing. Already the air seemed heavier, more humid. It was the intensity of the feeling, not the humidity, that reminded him of home, of Marrakech. But it had been a long time since he’d been home for anything more than a short visit. Wyoming was home now and humidity wasn’t an issue. Not like here. He could feel the air, thick and difficult to breath. He loved the feel of open spaces, the small population, the sweeping plains and the blessed winter. The congestion of a city like Miami or the one of his birth, Marrakech, overwhelmed his senses. He’d known that since he was a boy. It was the reason why, for almost the last decade, he’d lived in Wyoming. It was a vast state with a sparse population that fit his personality like nothing else. He loved the town of Jackson. It was small, a good place to dig in one’s heels. He could never imagine going back. Big cities were fun in the moment but anything more than a day or two and he was antsy. Unfortunately he was here in Miami for as long as it took to solve this case.

They’d been flying for well over an hour. Jer and he had caught up on where each of them were in their lives. For five minutes they flew in silence.

“Do you see it?” Jer asked.

“I do.” He was hanging half out of the chopper. Ahead of them and slightly less than fifty miles off the coast of Paradise Island was a speck that didn’t fit. A minute later and it was clear that it was a small dark gray dinghy.

“Bang on, Craig,” he said as if the tech was actually present. His coordinates had been near perfect, for the craft was only a mile away from where his tech had tracked it. It was barely visible as it rose and fell in waves that were growing larger with every minute.

“Raft,” Jer said unnecessarily as he read off the coordinates. “We may have us a survivor.”

The helicopter buzzed closer and it was hard to tell who or what they might be faced with. Faisal could only hope that there were at least two people in that life raft, the right two people—Dan and Ava Adams.

Tension mixed with excitement settled within the confines of the helicopter. The odds that this could be anyone else, considering even what little they knew, were remote.

“It’s loaded,” Jer said as he dipped the helicopter and lost altitude.

His gaze swept the area while never letting the life raft leave his sight. Dan and Ava had to be alive. He refused to accept another scenario. He looked at his watch as he estimated the hours they might have been in the water.

Faisal got into position to be dropped down. The flight suit he’d donned an hour earlier seemed both familiar and restrictive. He should have a wetsuit but he hadn’t thought of that. Emotion had blinded him. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and let the adrenaline fire him up as it always did.

“One occupant,” Faisal muttered a few minutes later as he slipped the harness on and prepared to be dropped. His heart sank. That meant that one of them might not have made it.

He wasn’t going to assume anything. This could be Ava Adams or Dan Adams or it could even be someone else who had been on that yacht, someone he wasn’t aware of. For now, he was focused on rescue, nothing more.

Whoever was in the raft hadn’t moved. And it was impossible to tell from this distance if they were alive or dead.

Chapter Four

“We’ve got a survivor.” Jer’s overly enthusiastic voice seemed oddly disembodied as it came through the headset.

Faisal didn’t respond, not even to the whoop that followed Jer’s statement. Neither were something that needed a response. Neither the enthusiasm nor the words that preceded it needed confirmation. They had all seen, as the waves rocked the raft, the movement within the small craft. But the move had been slight and gave no indication as to the condition of their survivor. Those thoughts ran through his mind as he focused on the details of his descent.

Sam turned and gave him a thumbs-up.

Faisal returned the gesture feeling pumped and optimistic.

The ocean was rough and the raft was clearly visible now. In fact, they were close enough to see that the survivor was alone, and that she was no longer moving. They could also see that her feet were bare. Her peach-colored wrap barely covered her torso and was the only spot of color against the dark gray craft and the stormy gray of the ocean only hinting at blue. Her dark hair spread like tangled clumps of seaweed around her. Her body seemed to rock with the movement of the water, rising and falling, offering no resistance. It was as if she were barely alive and, despite the movement they’d seen minutes earlier, that they might be too late.

Faisal pushed that thought away. He was poised at the open doorway, wanting to move into action.

“She looks in rough shape,” Jer said as he turned the helicopter around, bringing it closer to the raft. He cleared his throat. They both knew that despite Jer’s earlier enthusiasm, which was so typical of him, that what he said now only reflected his doubt that they had a survivor at all.

“We’ll get her to Mercy in Miami.”

“I’ll let them know the status and give the Coast Guard a heads-up too.”

“Possible survivor,” he said for Jer’s benefit so that he could relay the information. He only prayed it was true. If it were, they’d got here in the nick of time. She was in the middle of nowhere and way underdressed for the overnight conditions. Water in the life raft was causing it to list and that only caused more waves to crest the top of the small craft and fill it with more water. It was only a matter of time before this life raft sank.

They were closer now and it was clearer than it had been earlier that she wasn’t dead. She’d moved. It had only been a slight, maybe involuntary action because she’d been still since but it was movement. Relief raced through him while at the same time he wished more than just the three of them were here to rescue her. If they’d had time they would have brought a medic with them. But the timing had been off and the swiftness with which they’d had to move out had prevented any of that. The only thing they could do was make tracks to the emergency room.

It was a fairly easy descent. What wasn’t going to be easy was the landing. It wasn’t something he’d done in a while but it wasn’t unfamiliar, none of it was, not the work nor the pilot he was currently working with. Jer and he had worked together before many times and, despite his idiosyncrasies, he was one of the best.

Minutes later he was lowering himself toward the raft. He waved at Sam once as he gave a direction before twisting in the wind churned up by the helicopter blades. He angled toward the raft as much as he could but the conditions were against him. The wind was kicking up faster than he’d anticipated. The life raft was rocking in the waves. Despite Jer’s expertise in keeping the helicopter in position, and Sam’s with the winch line, it was taking all his skill to keep on target.

Already, he could see that this rescue was going to be much more difficult than they’d thought. They’d factored in as much as they could. While the wind had been part of that, there was no correcting for the force of the wind twisting him as he descended. That combined with a rough ocean had both the weather and the raft working against them. She’d moved only once since that slight movement almost ten minutes ago when they’d first spotted her. Had both times only been a figment of his imagination? Had it been only the result of the freefall of the raft as it fell within the trough of the waves? Yet he’d factored that, and they hadn’t thought so at the time. Still, he wondered.

Dark hair streamed down her back. He was close enough now to see that she was slim and long legged, and while he shouldn’t be sure without seeing her face, he knew without doubt who she was. And his heart pounded in response to that knowing.

He wanted to hurry the last few seconds up, get on the raft. But he couldn’t rush, couldn’t afford a mistake. Instead he took in details, as if that would take the edge off his impatience. She had little on, a silk cover that was soaked and covered nothing. What looked like a man’s jacket was draped over her ankles like it had slipped down during the night. Her face was hidden from him by her hair. That was a concern for she was lying facedown. She could have suffocated against the rubber or drowned in the water that covered some of the bottom of the dinghy.

Ava. It had to be her. But if it was, this wasn’t how he’d imagined their reunion. This wasn’t how he’d imagined her at all. It had been five years since he’d seen her. She’d texted him a couple of times and he’d texted back and then they’d both gotten caught up in their own lives. They’d been friends and yet there’d been something else there. They’d both felt it and yet they’d never acted on it.

Ava. He’d never forgotten her.

It was odd to be thinking such things in the dark heart of a rescue. All his attention should be focused on landing in rough seas. Normally he would have focused but nothing about this situation was normal. His feet tentatively touched the edge of the raft and then lifted off. It was too small. He didn’t know if it would hold both of them.

He had to try.

She moved.

Even in the awkward position he was in, relief shot through him. The wind twisted him yet again and he fought to come in at the right angle, to position himself with feet on the raft, not in the water. Either way, he’d get to her, but getting wet wasn’t in his plan. At least, it wasn’t the option he’d choose.

He pushed those thoughts aside. He needed to concentrate on the task ahead of him. He was hanging just over the life raft. As he determined how much of his weight the small vessel could take, she turned onto her side and opened her eyes. He put his foot down on the rubber to stop a slight spin. It was the last thing he did for over half a minute as he was caught in a memory he’d thought was long forgotten. It had been a youthful connection replaced by the reality called life and the space of five years. But the depths of those blue eyes reminded him that he’d never forgotten. The connection was brief. She closed her eyes again with a sigh as if she knew that she was safe even as she slipped back into unconsciousness. He couldn’t waste time looking at her pale face or the full lips that were almost as pallid as the porcelain skin of her slim neck. There wasn’t time to consider anything—she needed to get medical help. He went over her with quick hands and eyes. He made sure that there wasn’t any injury that needed immediate attention, no blood or awkward positioning of limbs. There was nothing except an unnatural stillness that meant she’d slipped back into unconsciousness. A pass of his hand beneath her nostrils told him that she continued to breathe.

He had to get her into the helicopter and to the hospital as quickly as possible. The mysteries of why she was here and where her father was would have to remain just that. The US Coast Guard, the Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association and a swarm of volunteers were searching the waters for the yacht. Hopefully Dan Adams was still on board and there’d be answers. If they found the yacht without him, despite having found Ava, the chances of succeeding twice were slim. The Atlantic was a big place and even now the waves were rough with weather reports saying it wasn’t going to get any better. His focus returned to where Ava Adams lay unmoving with nothing but six square feet of air-inflated rubber to protect her from the elements. She wasn’t even wearing a life jacket. That reality horrified him as he thought of all the possibilities and of how lucky she’d been. The Ava he knew was a poor swimmer. If she’d ended up in the water, she would have drowned in waves like this. She’d been lucky he’d arrived when he had.

It was five minutes before he had her harnessed and buckled against him. It had been awkward trying to balance on the dinghy and maneuver her into the harness. Now, he held her tight against his chest, his arm around her, her breasts pressed against his chest. It seemed inappropriate and wrong. And yet all he could do was hold one arm over the harness that held her and the other a safe distance away as he held the winch line. He looked up and signaled Sam to take them up. The roar of the helicopter blades and the crash of the waves below them made communicating impossible. The line twisted, and they turned, facing away from the empty life raft as the line slowly took them up.

She moaned and it was odd hearing her voice for the first time in so long. She opened her eyes. He hadn’t expected that nor her unseeing gaze. It was as unexpected as the first time. This time her eyes held nothing but desperation and panic.

“Find my father.” Her words were so low and breathy. It was like it took all her energy just to breathe.

“We will,” he said. He held her tighter, her body damp and cold, and her curves pressed into him, teasing him in ways that he could not ignore.

His thoughts were blown away with her next words.

“He’ll kill him.”

Chapter Five

He’ll kill him.

With Ava safely in the helicopter, her words still echoed in his mind. Unfortunately, after that cryptic statement, she’d passed out. There was no clue as to who she might be referring to. The yacht had officially held two passengers, Dan Adams and Ava. Did someone want them dead? And if so, who?

They hadn’t arrived a moment too soon.

Getting her into the helicopter was difficult, getting her on the stretcher, no easier. She’d been limp, and because of that, dead weight. She’d floated back into unconsciousness for a while after he’d gotten her into the helicopter and before he’d pulled up the rescue gear. A few minutes, not a whole lot more.

She grimaced and then squinted as if she couldn’t focus. She wasn’t looking at anything; in fact, her eyes were half-closed and hidden by long dark lashes. Her eyes opened a little wider but again remained unfocused on either him or anything else.

He remembered those eyes so full of intelligence and passion. He remembered the vivid blue piercing challenge of them and he remembered the vulnerability behind her shrewd intellect. Despite what he’d told himself over the years, he’d forgotten nothing about her. He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Irrelevant. He needed to keep her safe, get her warm and get her to the hospital.

The only assessment he could make was that she didn’t seem to be seeing him. She wasn’t looking at him or around him—instead it was as if she didn’t see him or anything else at all. It was like she was asleep with her eyes open.

“What happened, Ava?” he asked in an undertone. Sam had moved from the winch just behind him up to the copilot seat beside Jer. Faisal was alone with Ava. Her misty blue gaze seemed to float past him, not taking him in or even her surroundings. She seemed to slip in and out of awareness. Her moments of lucidity were sometimes just moments of opening her eyes. She was unfocused as if nothing was part of her reality. He didn’t expect an answer. He wasn’t sure why he had asked the question. She was in a fragile state but at least now she had a chance. He hoped that they could say the same about her father, Dan Adams.

“Dad,” she whispered as she closed her eyes. But that one word wasn’t an answer, it only raised more questions.

“No, Ava. It’s me, Faisal.” He looked at the face that he remembered so well. The high cheekbones were pale, taut over the bones of her face. A few freckles that he hadn’t known she had seemed to stand out against her pale skin. There was so little that had changed and yet so much. She’d been twenty the last time he’d seen her and he’d been twenty-two. For the majority of the years since then, he’d headed the Wyoming branch of Nassar Security. He hadn’t forgotten Ava. He’d gone one way and she’d gone another. She’d continued with her schooling. He’d heard from Emir only weeks ago that she’d graduated with a PhD in psychology. Life had happened to them and their friendship had slipped under the radar for a time.

There had always been the promise of something more. But she’d been too young and he’d been with someone else. They’d been friends but always there had been the hint of something more. In another time, if he had been wiser things might have been different.

Seconds later, she opened her eyes. He was startled, for it looked like she had been crying. As if she knew, even in her half-conscious state, that she’d been the sole survivor. She closed her eyes again without having focused on him or on anything else in the chopper. It was like she was there and yet wasn’t.

“How’s she doing?” Jer asked.

“In and out of consciousness,” he said.

“He killed him,” she murmured a few minutes later as she opened and then again closed her eyes.

There was no point asking who. Sooner or later she would come to and then she would remember and be able to tell him what had happened. If it was too much later, they would find the information by other means.

He pulled another blanket over her. He reached for a third, rolled it and put it under her calves, thus elevating her legs. At least the fact that she’d shivered was evidence that she hadn’t fallen too far into her unconscious state.

He needed to get some heat on her. More important, he knew that he had to get her out of the wet clothes that clung to her skin. The wet material was only chilling her even further and making the blanket useless. He pulled the blankets back, using one of them to shield what he could of her body. He peeled away the flimsy material. Her skin was damp. He tried to preserve her modesty. But there was only so much he could do. He left her panties on. They were damp too but what he’d done had been enough. At least she wouldn’t arrive in the emergency room completely naked. Not that it mattered, but yet it did matter and he wasn’t sure why. He tucked another blanket around her.

He put a hand on Ava’s forehead. The contact sent a tingle through his hand as if there were still a connection between them. But there was nothing, all of that was over. It was stupid of him to think of that. Silly to remember something that had been nothing but a flirtatious friendship despite what he had wanted. It had been a long time ago. They were different people. He was sure she’d changed, much as he had. He regretted not following up with her. If he had then he’d know who she’d become, what had happened to the happy girl with the quick wit. He took his attention to the immediate. She was warm. There was a sheen to her forehead, like a fever might be developing. Her forehead was moist and not, he knew, from her time in the dinghy. He hoped she didn’t have a fever but the heat he was feeling didn’t bode well. It didn’t matter. They would get her to the hospital and she’d be fine. It was the location of her father that was more disconcerting. For his fate was unknown.

“Dad,” she murmured.

This time there was expectation in the way she said the word, as if she thought her father might make an appearance.

“Find my father,” she said in a breathy whisper.

“It’s Faisal,” he said, hoping that his voice might somehow bring her back to consciousness.

He leaned closer. “You’re alright.” It wasn’t a question but a statement meant to reassure her, to let her know that she was no longer alone.

She pushed him away but it was barely a tap as her one hand dropped and her other didn’t even lift. Nor did she open her eyes. Her head moved to the side as if she were trying to do more but was too weak. “Kill...”

“What?” Sam asked.

“What the hell?” Jer’s voice came through the headset. “What’s she talking about? Kill who, what?”

“I wish I knew,” Faisal said. His attention never left her face. But Ava had closed her eyes again as if that one disturbing word was too much. “Maybe something about what she’s been through. Maybe nothing.”

“Nothing. I doubt that,” Jer replied. “Kill is a fairly intense word in any context.”

“True,” Faisal agreed.

“I’ve been in contact with Miami’s Mercy Hospital. They’re the closest and they’re expecting us.” Jer’s voice came over his earpiece. “Contacted Search and Rescue too. They’ll pass the info on that we’ve found Ava Adams.”

Below, the ocean swept out around them but there was no sign of the missing yacht nor was there any sign of land. Wherever Dan Adams was, they could only hope he was alive and could hang on. The horizon stretched out in front of them and seemed to mock the fact that help was now minutes away.

* * *

BEN WHYTE ROLLED over and moaned. The sun was glaring in his eyes and he couldn’t stand to look at it. He’d dragged himself to shore in the wee hours of the night. He’d lost track of time during a swim that had seemed to go on forever. He hadn’t realized that he’d been that far from shore. It was all supposed to be so much easier than it actually had been. The dispute and resulting fight should never have happened.

Dan Adams, he thought with disdain. The man was an idiot. He hadn’t thought so only days ago, but it was clear now. Dan had signed his own death certificate by admitting what he knew and then confronting him with it. The Dan of the past would never have done that. He would have silently turned him in.

He looked behind him where he could see the distant rise of Paradise Island hotels and other high-rises. But on this strip of sand there was nothing. He needed to ferry over to the main island where the cruise ships were. From there he could slip on the below deck crew entrance on a ship heading for Florida. His hand slid into his pocket and pulled out a debit card and a small wad of soggy bills. He was taking a chance but he could use the card to get a ticket on the ferry.

He guesstimated that he’d swum for well over an hour before collapsing on this stretch of sand and passing out exhausted for the rest of the night. The only thing motivating him to stay alive was the fact that there was too much at stake for him to die. He was one transaction away from being a rich man and that idiot Dan Adams had almost ruined it all, him and his damn daughter. The meddlesome little witch.

He’d needed Dan. His reputation in their partnership was gold. The land didn’t exist, at least not land owned by him, but by the time the damn foreigners found out about it, it would be too late. Except Dan wanted to pull out of the partnership.

He’d shown up on the yacht to give Dan one more chance. Ava Adams was never supposed to have been on board. Dan had told him he was going on a yachting vacation and he hadn’t mentioned his daughter. Instead he’d mentioned the fact that his daughter had accepted a position—her first job. Supposedly it started in some forsaken Wyoming town in the next week or two. He’d forgotten the details. It had only amazed him at the time. Amazed him that anyone would want to live in that backwater. But she’d gone to school there and had been forever infatuated with Wyoming. All that aside, he’d never expected to see her. He’d never thought that she’d fly down to join her father. Dan had never mentioned the possibility.

His hand slid to his waist. Empty. He’d been armed at the beginning of this. Dan had hit him and for a minute his world had grayed and then, when he’d come to, he’d shot him and seen Dan fall overboard.

Now, Ava Adams, if she survived, at best she knew he’d killed her father, at worst she knew it all. He had no idea what her father had told her. What he did know was that he needed to close his last deal before the truth came out. But his Canadian buyer was already showing suspicion and reluctant to pay the balance of what he owed for that tract of land he was so hot to have. Time was of the essence, for he’d heard both impatience and a hint of disbelief in their last phone call. It was as if the buyer had lost confidence in the deal, in Ben’s ability to facilitate the transfer. It was as if he sensed the truth. That couldn’t happen, for the truth would destroy everything. Even without Dan’s reputation backing him, he planned to close this deal. There was too much money at stake. One word from Dan’s daughter and it would be over before he had a chance to leave. He needed that last payout and he needed it desperately. He couldn’t chance the possibility that Ava Adams would reveal what she knew.

She needed to be dealt with immediately. But the grim reaper wouldn’t deal out death by sleight of hand. If she wasn’t dead yet, in order for her to die, he needed a gun.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.