Free Mystery in the Moonlight by Lynn Patrick Page A

doing what he had to do.
    “You’d hardly make a mouthful for a single shark,” Bryce finally told her, tightening his grip on her wrist and urging her forward. “Too skinny. But don’t tempt fate by looking down. Just hang on and jump when I do. I’ll go when the ship swings back toward us.”
    The gap narrowed and he jumped. Caitlin gasped but did as he’d commanded, landing safely next to him. Fear must have made her knees weak, however, for they seemed to give under her. Bryce steadied her slender body, not liking the way she felt, so soft and vulnerable against him. She pushed herself up and away from him immediately. Ridiculous, but he thought she seemed almost embarrassed at having shown him any weakness.
    “I can stand by myself, thank you,” she told him haughtily, color seeping back into her face.
    “Good. Then I won’t have to carry you.”
    Without another word Bryce grasped her wrist and dragged Caitlin across the deck toward his own cabin. She might be weaker than before, but she was just as determined to give him a hard time, he thought with an inward chuckle.
    “What are you going to do with me?”
    “Lock you in my cabin,” Bryce told her, hanging on to the still struggling woman while opening the door with his free hand. “And forget finding a spare key in here. There isn’t one.”
    “Wait a minute!” she yelled as he pushed her inside. Caitlin whirled around and bravely glared at him. “You can’t lock me up like a…”
    “Hostage?” Bryce helpfully supplied, deliberately aiming a wicked grin at her.
    Though her face was flushed with fury, he recognized some other, more complex set of emotions cross her features. If Bryce thought she would begin to rail at him, he was surprised at the way Caitlin seemed to choke down the heated words he expected. Again he felt her fear as though it were a tangible thing, and it made him angry.
    “Are you ready to talk about Moreau?” he demanded.
    “Please believe me,” Caitlin said, unshed tears brightening her pale blue eyes. “I can’t tell you anything about Moreau that would be important.”
    “Then welcome to your new home on the Sea Devil .”
    With that Bryce slammed and locked the cabin door. Then, ignoring Caitlin’s moaned “Not again!” as well as her determined pounding, he stalked toward Anselm, who stood near the prow of the ship.
    As the ocean swelled, it momentarily lifted the Sea Devil . Following the direction of his mate’s focus, Bryce glanced over the rail and across the white cruiser. Its twin skiffs equipped with outboard motors were already in the water on the other side, and the crew members who’d manned Moreau’s boat were seated in them.
    “Get going before we change our minds!” Anselm yelled. A few of Bryce’s men waved rifles threateningly, but the gestures were hardly necessary. The skiffs were already pulling away from the cruiser. “I assume we leave Moreau’s boat?”
    Bryce nodded. “She’ll wreck herself on the reef like the other one did—unless someone comes to her rescue. Any sign of that two-master?”
    “She was quite a ways out. Her captain won’t bring her any closer.” Anselm grinned, his white teeth sparkling against his dark beard. “They say we’re a bloodthirsty bunch, mon. That we murdered at least one crew member on board that last boat.”
    “Good. Fear makes men careless.” And what about women? Bryce wondered. Would he have to prey on Caitlin’s fear to make her talk? Remembering her blue eyes, wide with fright, Bryce silently cursed. “What did you find out?”
    “The next shipment isn’t scheduled yet. Nevison’s guess is a week or so.”
    “Damn!” Bryce slammed his closed fist down on the rail so hard that his hand vibrated with pain. “Another week!”
    “Bryce, my friend,” Anselm said softly, moving closer. “You know as well as I do that that could mean a week or a month in the West Indies. But be realistic. What difference does time make