Jess’s arms quivered with the weight of the television as she lifted it above her head. Chin Lee pounded the door a second time. “Please, help me!”
Every nerve in Jess’s body went taut when the latch clicked. She held her breath as the door swung open. Looking down, she saw the back of a bald head and shoulders as wide as a football field. “Whaddya want?” he asked with a gruff British accent.
Maintaining the guise with the flair of a dramatic actress, Chin Lee pointed to the bed. “She’s sick. Not breathing. Need doctor.”
“Oh, bloody hell.” The man entered the room. “What’s wrong with her?”
He must have sensed Jess above him, because he started to turn. But he wasn’t fast enough. She brought the television down on his head as hard as she could. The sound of glass breaking shattered the silence of the room. The momentum made Jess lose her balance and she fell forward, crashing into the guard. Vaguely she was aware of him bellowing. Of Nicolas crying. Of Chin Lee rushing toward them.
Jess and the guard hit the floor with a crash. Adrenaline and the promise of escape had Jess on her feet in a fraction of a second. She looked wildly around. Chin Lee stood outside the door in the corridor, keeping watch. Nicolas sat on the bed, whimpering. The guard lay on his back. His eyes were closed; he wasn’t moving.
Jess rushed to Nicolas and put her arms around him. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie.” Hugging him to her, she stroked the back of his head and cooed, “But we have to go, okay?”
The guard groaned. She’d hoped to knock him unconscious, but he was starting to thrash. Her gaze snapped to Chin Lee’s. “We need to tie him up.”
Chin Lee darted back into the room and gathered the rope that had been used to tie Jess. Working in unison, the two women tied the guard’s hands behind his back. When that was finished, Jess confiscated his radio and pistol, shoved both into the waistband of her slacks.
“Let’s go.” Crossing to Nicolas, Jess lifted him from the cot and took him into her arms. At five years of age, he wasn’t exactly light, but she thought she could carry him for a small distance.
“Where?” In the corridor, Chin Lee looked both ways.
“Lifeboats.” Meeting her, Jess set Nicolas on his feet and took his hand. “Do you know the way?”
Chin Lee motioned right. “Follow me.”
She took off at a jog, Jess trailing with Nicolas in tow. If her memory served her, they were two levels down. Once they reached the deck, Jess thought, even if they couldn’t find the lifeboat in time, she would rather risk jumping overboard than face the crew.
They reached a hatch. Two spins and Chin Lee went through it. Their shoes clanged against steel-grate stairs. Nicolas whimpered softly, but Jess encouraged him, hoping the fear leaping through her veins didn’t leach into her voice. “Come on, sweetie,” she whispered. “You can do it. Just a little farther.”
They hit a stairwell, passed a second hatch and continued up. Midway to the final hatch, the blare of an alarm split the air.
“What’s that?” Jess asked.
Chin Lee had gone white. “They know,” she said. “Hurry.”
When they reached the top stairwell, Chin Lee went to work on the door. Jess knelt beside Nicolas and gave him a hug. “We’re almost there,” she whispered.
The hatch opened. Chin Lee burst through. Taking Nicolas’s hand, Jess followed.
And found herself face-to-face with two uniformed men, their semiautomatic weapons trained on her heart.
Chapter Nineteen
The Dorian Rae was midway to the mouth of the port by the time Madrid climbed over the rail on the lowest weather deck. The first thing he noticed was the intermittent blast of the alarm.
He was soaked to the skin, but he barely felt the cold as he sprinted along the rail toward the bridge. He’d hated leaving Vanderpol behind—he needed the backup—but Madrid had had a split second to make his decision; he’d done the only thing he could. He had to find Jess and Nicolas. Once the ship reached international waters, he’d never see them again.
Ahead, he saw the bridge lights and the silhouette of the radar mast against the night sky. The ship was massive, and he had no idea where to look for Jess. If he could reach the bridge, maybe he could get the ship stopped.
Ten feet from the deckhouse four men dressed in uniforms and armed with semiautomatic weapons clattered down a steel stairway. By ducking into a darkened alcove Madrid barely avoided being spotted. He watched them pass, his heart pounding. The men were going somewhere in a hurry. He listened to the scream of the alarm and wondered if it had anything to do with Jess.