Free Wanted by Mila McClung Page B

lied, lowering her gaze. “But I’m fine. I can get up on my own.”
    She did just
that and sought out some kind of refuge from the crowd. There was a marina
nearby. She headed in that direction, thinking she could lose herself there. A
second explosion from the car sent everyone scrambling, and gave her a chance
to disappear.
    Tierney
searched through the endless line of crisp white boats; finally came upon one
called Sea Mistress that wasn’t so crisp or white but it was uninhabited as far
as she could tell. She made sure no one was looking then boarded it and slipped
down into the unlocked hull. The place was a mess; clothes strewn all over the dark,
70s style furniture, half-eaten pizzas still in their boxes, and cans reeking
of stale beer lying in clusters about the floor.
    “God, can I
pick them or what?” she sighed. Then she heard footsteps and hid in the tiny blue-tiled
bathroom. It was a man – she could tell because he apparently stubbed his toe
on the beer cans and cursed out loud in a deep, sexy voice.
    Tierney heard a
cell phone beep then the man said, “Yeah, I’m still here but I’m heading out in
awhile. No, I’m not sure where exactly, maybe Baja. I don’t care what Slater
says. I’m through! Get it? All right then. Talk later, Joe. Sure. Bye.”
    Tierney waited,
afraid the man would yank open the door and find her but he didn’t. He stomped
up to the deck and started the engine. The boat began to move, easing grumpily
out of its dock and into the Bay.
    “Oh my God,
what do I do now?” Tierney whispered. Her mind was jumbled, unsure of who to
trust. She tried to come up with a list of suspects for the bombing. Sure, she
had enemies, rich people always do. But she couldn’t imagine anyone hating her
enough to actually commit murder. It wasn’t Istvan, was it? He did know about
demolition, his dad ran a blasting company in Budapest . Maybe he
had sensed that she was over him and that mad temper of his got the better of
his judgment.
    Or was it Bodey?
He had a thing for her, told her once that he meant to take her away from Istvan
once the show was done. Nah, he was too lazy to even think of constructing a
bomb, though he did work with explosives in Iraq while he was in
the military.
    Then there was
her brother, Dennis Aram Evans. The brat was spoiled beyond
belief, had envied and despised Tierney for most of her life. And why? Because
he was utterly happy being an only child, pampered and paraded about like a
prize cow. He enjoyed all the attention and bragging. Then Tierney came along
and stole some of his sunshine, leaving him a miserable, sullen beast. She had
tried to love him in spite of his acid tongue and spiteful actions but it
couldn’t be done. Only a saint – and she certainly wasn’t one - could love that
guy.
    Tierney thought
maybe she should call her folks. Then she remembered her phone was in her purse
and her purse was probably floating in the Pacific if it hadn’t been blown to
bits. She had the urge to pee, took the opportunity to use the tiny bathroom.
    As she was
sitting there she heard the footsteps again. The bathroom door flew open before
she could get her Victoria ’s Secret panties up! She stood;
bare-butted, face to hairy chest with the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He
was shirtless, wearing jeans and deck shoes, and shaped like Apollo in a
Romantic Era painting, his body firm and muscled, his features finely chiseled,
with lines down his cheeks and a dimple in his chin. He looked her up and down
with cinnamon brown eyes then averted his gaze while he ran lean fingers
through a mass of golden brown hair. She swore his tanned face turned ruddy.
    “What the hell
… how did you get in here?”
    Tierney
repositioned her panties, and smoothed her denim miniskirt as she fashioned a
quick lie. “I thought this was my dad’s boat. The Saracen. I guess I was
mistaken …”
    “You must be
blind, or high on something. Get your business done while I turn the