Free Vortex (Cutter Cay) by Cherry Adair Page B

information. Logically, in her mind at least, he’d believe her, and hotfoot it down the coast in the other direction to see if maybe she was right. But since he didn’t appear to be the trusting sort, she suspected they’d stay parked right where they were. “In the middle of the ocean until hell freezes over, right, Thor?” She tried out a new name for Dog. He didn’t appear to like it one way or the other.
    In their short twenty-four-hour acquaintance, Daniela had come to some conclusions about her reluctant host. “Would you say intractable, stubborn, and believes he’s always right? Yeah. What I figured.” Her dad was the nice version of the characteristics, so Daniela had cut her teeth on the breed. Still, experience hadn’t prepared her for Victor, who practiced the dark side of those traits.
    The next step, if necessary, was a club over Cutter’s thick head, then wrest the steering wheel out of the hands of the nice captain, and move the ship herself.
    “On the other hand,” she whispered to an oblivious Dog. “Why do I care if he believes me or not? I don’t give a flying fig if we stay anchored here for the next two and a half weeks. In fact, that would be even better. What do you think?” No treasure would ensure the cousins stayed away.
    “It’s not as if he can salvage all the treasure in one day, right?” she quietly asked the dog beside her.
    The dog didn’t share his opinion, just cocked his head and perked up an ear. Judging by the hopeful glances he kept giving the dish in her hand, he was anticipating some of the ice cream melting off her plate as she walked.
    Various scenarios galloped through her head. Right now she didn’t doubt that her idiot cousins were just over the horizon, waiting for the Sea Wolf to move. The second Cutter retrieved all the treasure, they’d swoop in and take it. She’d tried to reason with them, and they’d agreed to split the treasure fifty-fifty with Cutter.
    Even she wasn’t that gullible. In fact, Daniela had never been that gullible. Which was why she couldn’t figure out how she’d ended up in the mess that was her ex-lover, Victor.
    Thank God he didn’t know where she was.
    That was a terrific place to be.
    The cousins wouldn’t make a move until Cutter had the treasure. That could take weeks, or months, or … years? By which time, please God, she’d be back home in DC. Or wherever.
    Victor’s people were beating the bushes for her in New York, San Francisco, anywhere an upscale art dealer might normally go. She’d spent the last month zigging and zagging across the country, using buses, trains, and ferries to cover her trail. He’d had two fluky, lucky-for-him breaks, but she’d managed to elude his thugs both times.
    Victor’s minions wouldn’t think to look for her in the middle of the Pacific. Nobody, other than the cousins, knew she was here. And she’d given them a fabricated reason and the same fake name she’d given Cutter. Even if by some twist of fate they tracked her down to Lima and the eight million people there, they’d never think to look for her out here in the middle of the damned ocean. Victor, of all people, knew how she felt about the water.
    While it felt as though she juggled a bowling ball, an egg, and a swiftly moving chain saw, all while blindfolded, Daniela figured the respite Cutter was granting her would give her a chance to catch her breath, stop looking over her shoulder, and come up with a plan for her future. It seemed like a fair trade-off to be stuck in such close proximity to a man who clearly didn’t trust her. Which was just fine by her; the feeling was mutual.
    She’d claimed exhaustion as an excuse not to eat with the men—Okay, not to spend any more time with X-ray-eyes Logan. Nobody had asked her “exhaustion from what?” She hadn’t done a damn thing all day but do her best to be invisible, sit around flipping through guy magazines, and try not to anticipate a hundred things going