But as she opened it, she realized just what had been copied. A map. The original had been very old, and there was an X on it, and next to that, three words: The Anne Marie.
She stared at it numbly for a second, then remembered the day when she had found her things out of order. Someone must have hidden the map that day. Returning her mind to her predicament. Rising, she opened the drawer, heedless now of making noise. She found the knife she had been seeking and quickly belted it around her calf.
Then she heard a noise as someone came stealthily toward the front of the house.
Once again, she made a quick escape through a bedroom window.
David burst into the bedroom of Ally’s cottage, speargun aimed.
But no one was there.
He immediately noticed the open window and the punched-out screen lying on the floor.
Silently, he left the bedroom, then the house, and hurried on toward Alex’s place.
Now the door was wide open. Cautiously, he entered.
He hurried through the cottage.
This time, it was her own bedroom window that was open. A punched-out screen lay mangled on the floor.
He heard a shot.
The sound had come from the area of the Tiki Hut.
He raced from the house and toward the lagoons.
“Stop, Alex. Stop!”
She had simply run when she left her place. Away from the front door. Her steps had brought her to the la goons and the Tiki Hut. She made it to the lagoon on the outskirts of the Tiki Hut, which was little more than a pile of rubble now. She spared a moment’s gratitude that she hadn’t spent the night under the bar after all.
The voice calling to her gave her pause.
It was John Seymore. And she knew he had a gun.
She turned, and he was there, closing in on her.
“Wait for me,” he said. But as she stared at him, another man burst from the trees.
It was Hank Adamson. And he, too, was armed.
“Alex, it’s all right!” Adamson called out. “I’ve got him covered. Seymore, put down the gun or I’ll shoot you.”
“Alex, let him shoot me,” John said. “Get the hell away from him.”
“Alex, don’t be an idiot. Don’t run,” Hank Adamson insisted.
At that moment, David burst from the foliage, his speargun raised. “Alex, get the hell away from here!” David roared, but then he paused, seeing the situation.
“Hey, David,” Hank Adamson called. “I’ve got him!”
“Yeah, I see that,” David said. For a moment his eyes met hers. Then they turned toward the lagoon before meeting hers again. She realized that he was telling her to escape. Shania had helped her once. The dolphin would surely take her away again.
But she didn’t dare move.
“Yeah, you’ve got him, all right,” David said, walking to Seymore’s side. “Hank, where’s Jay?” he asked. “It’s all right, Alex. It’s okay…Hank has got this guy covered.”
She knew from his eyes that he didn’t mean it.
But how was he so sure that John Seymore wasn’t the bad guy?
“Hank, where’s Jay?” David repeated.
“This guy must have gotten him during the night,” Hank said, indicating John.
And then Alex knew. Amazingly, David looked dead calm, and earnest, as if he were falling for every word Hank Adamson said. He was gambling again, she realized. Bluffing. In a game where the stakes were life or death.
His life.
She could see what he was doing. He was going to go for Hank Adamson and take the chance of being shot. He was risking John Seymore’s life, as well, but she could see in that man’s eyes that he was willing to take the risk. The guy was for real.
“Now!” David shouted.
His spear flashed in the brilliant morning sunlight that had followed the storm.
John Seymore made a dive for her, and they crashed into the lagoon together.
As they pitched below the surface of the water, Alex was aware of the bullet ripping through it next to them. She heard the concussion as another shot was fired.
In the depths of the lagoon, the bullets harmlessly pierced the bottom. She and Seymore kicked their way back to the surface. Heads bobbed around them. Dolphin heads. Her charges were about to go after John.
“No, no…it’s all right!” She quickly gave them a signal, then ignored both them and John Seymore as she kicked furiously to reach the shore.
Two men were down.
“Careful!” John was right behind her, holding her back when she would have rushed forward.
He walked ahead of her.
Hank Adamson, speared through the ribs, was on top. Blood gushed from his wound.
“David!”
She shrieked his name, falling to the ground, trying to reach him as John Seymore lifted Hank Adamson’s bleeding form.
“David!”
He opened his eyes.
“David, are you hurt? Are you shot?”
“Alex,” he said softly, and his voice sounded like a croak.
“Don’t you die, you bastard!” she cried. “I love you, David. I was an idiot, a scared idiot. Don’t you dare die on me now!”
He smiled, then pushed himself entirely free of Hank Adamson and the pile of leaves and branches that had cushioned them both when they fell. He got to his feet.
“She loves me,” he told John Seymore, smiling.