For a split second she thought about making a run for the surface. If she could get up to the boat before it freed itself…

But then reason reasserted itself.

If the alligator caught her in the open water, she’d be dead.

And chances were, injured and exhausted as she was, it wouldcatch her.

So rather than trying to make a run for it, she turned around as soon as she was clear of the opening and positioned herself atop the overhang that covered it, legs braced shoulder-width apart and the sword held point downward in her two hands.

I’m only going to get one shot….

Having already tasted the sharpness of her blade, the alligator was more cautious leaving the wreck than it had been when entering, which was exactly what Annja was counting on.

It stuck its snout out of the opening first, testing the water.

That was the target Annja had been waiting for. The moment the alligator’s snout came into view, Annja stepped off the ledge, thrusting her sword downward with all her might as she fell.

The resistance of the water delayed her blow slightly, but she’d anticipated that and planned for it. Thanks to the delay, rather than passing through the top of the creature’s snout, which only would have enraged it more, her sword pierced the beast’s skull a few inches behind its eyes as her weight settled fully atop the beast.

It reacted instantly, throwing itself around like a bucking bronco, but Annja wrapped her legs around the creature’s neck and held on to the sword with all her might, still pushing downward.

Blood spilled into the water, obscuring them both, but Annja didn’t care. She was too focused on driving that sword deeper and was holding on with her legs for dear life.

There was a moment of resistance and then the blade slid all the way home, the guard on the hilt coming to rest against the reptile’s bony hide.

Beneath her, the alligator finally went still.

Annja held on, waiting, wanting to be sure before she let go, but when it hadn’t moved for several long moments she finally released her death grip on both the sword and the alligator.

The sword vanished back into the otherwhere, as if it had never been, leaving only Annja’s blood-covered form and the sinking body of a dead alligator as evidence that it had existed at all.

Annja tried to draw in a deep breath from her regulator and got only a thin mouthful of air.

Uh-oh.

A glance at her air gauge told her she was well into the red. She had only moments of air left.

Trying to keep from panicking, Annja hung in the water for a moment, watching her air bubbles. All the gator’s thrashing had disoriented her and she needed to determine which way was up before she started swimming. She didn’t want to head off in the wrong direction and make things worse.

When she saw the direction the air bubbles were rising, she began swimming frantically in the same direction.

She almost made it, too.

She was only ten feet from the surface when her air tank ran completely dry.

Annja didn’t let that stop her, though. She spit the regulator from her mouth and kicked harder, pushing herself up toward the light shining down from above.

She broke the surface of the water and sucked in a great, life-giving breath of fresh air.

That was when she noticed the man standing on the stern of the Kelly May,pointing the muzzle of the automatic rifle at her.

29

“You don’t listen too good, do you, Miss Creed?”

Annja stared up at the speaker, a dark-haired man in his mid-forties standing next to the gunman, and resisted the urge to correct his grammar. No sense in antagonizing him, at least not yet.

Behind him she could see Jimmy Mitchell and Garin kneeling on the deck, a second gunman standing far enough away that he could keep his weapon trained on them without worrying about being jumped. Three other thugs stood nearby, guns in hand but not pointed at anyone. All around it was a good, tactical position and, seeing it, Annja knew they were dealing with professionals.

That was going to make things more difficult.

She turned her head slightly, taking in the large yacht that was tied up next to the smaller Kelly May. That explained where the men had come from. She could see several other men on board the other vessel, which told her they were vastly outnumbered.

It didn’t look like there was an easy way out of this one.

“I thought I was quite clear,” the speaker said. “Or is there some other way of interpreting ‘stay out of my business’?”

Annja focused her attention back on him. “Who are you and what do you want?” she asked.

The man laughed. “Who am I? Oh, that’s rich, Miss Creed. Truly. You’re being held at gunpoint and the first thing you care about is being sure we’re properly introduced.” He shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Reinhardt told me you were a little spitfire, but I must admit I didn’t quite believe him. Now I know better.”

Annja’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Bernard, but she didn’t say anything, not yet. There would be time enough to deal with that. Right now she wanted to prevent them all from being killed.

“Let me introduce myself, then.” The man affected a little bow. “Blaine Michaels, at your service. As for what I want? I think we both know the answer to that.”

“You’re after the treasure,” Annja said, stalling for time while trying to come up with a plan. With the gun pointed at her head, she didn’t have many options. Diving back down beneath the surface was out of the question. She’d never make it deep enough quickly enough to avoid the gunfire that was sure to follow, and besides, that would leave Garin and Mitchell in their hands along with Bernard. Nor could she hope to climb aboard and free them before being cut down by gunfire.

“Out of the water, please.”

Somehow, Michaels made the word pleasesound anything but polite.

Annja swam the last few feet to the side of the boat. When no one moved to help her up, she pulled herself up and over the stern. After fighting off an alligator and running out of air, that final effort nearly exhausted her. She sat with her back against the gunwale and panted to catch her breath.

“The rifle. Where is it?” Michaels said.

She looked up at him, feigning confusion. “The what? I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

In hindsight, she realized she should have expected it. After all, nothing Michaels had done so far gave her any reason to think he was anything but deadly serious.

Michaels didn’t bother arguing with her. He didn’t say anything at all, in fact. He just gave a little wave of his hand—nothing to it really, just a flick of the fingers—and the man holding the gun on Annja’s companions pulled the trigger.

There was the crack of a gunshot and Jimmy Mitchell dropped to the deck, his sightless eyes staring in her direction as blood leaked from the hole in his forehead to mingle with the flow pouring out of what was left of the back of his skull after the bullet burst through it.

Annja came halfway off the deck, her hands clenched, adrenaline surging through her system. It took incredible force of will to keep from drawing her sword, but somehow she managed it. Michaels and his men were too far away for it to do her any good and drawing it now would only give away her one real advantage.

“You bastard,” she snarled.

“Tsk, tsk, Miss Creed. Such language. There’s no need for it, really.” He took a couple of steps forward and stared down at her with contempt.

“I’ll only ask you once more. Where is the rifle?”

She didn’t see any option but to tell him. If she’d been on her own, she might have taken a chance in drawing her sword and trying to get her hands on Michaels before his henchman could line up a shot, but with Garin still under gunpoint she didn’t have that choice. Michaels had already shown he wouldn’t hesitate to fire and she didn’t want any more blood on her hands.