He made his way toward Jazz, determined to get his gun before taking him out, just in case. As he reached for the weapon, pain tore through him like lightning. Then black.

TATE TOUCHED MICHAEL’S shoulder, really worried now that the hit on the head had done serious damage. He’d been out for hours, and the swelling, despite the damp cloths she’d kept on it, was bad.

Just after he’d been dumped on the bed, the boat had pulled anchor and set out. She had no idea if they were going to the Cayman Islands or simply out to sea to dispose of bodies, but she did know they were traveling fast. When she’d looked out the porthole, she’d seen no land at all in the early-morning light.

If only he’d wake up.

She sat back on the bed watching his chest rise and fall. He’d been so wonderful to her last night. It had changed everything for her about sex, and if this hadn’t been the single worst experience of her life, she’d have been in heaven.

More then ever she wanted to survive this. Not just to get over her fears but to see what would happen between her and Michael. Was she the worst person on Earth to be thinking of their future together while he might be seriously hurt? She supposed it was no worse than her prognosis. They’d either die tonight, in the cold depths of the sea, or in about a week, after she’d signed her money away. Or Michael would recover and he’d save her.

She decided right then to focus on option three.

Her father wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t the best, right? And he’d gotten them this far. Okay, so his escape plan last night hadn’t gone so well. But, come on, the guy had had no way of knowing what was behind the door. At least he’d tried.

Things would get trickier now, though. Assuming they were heading for the Cayman’s, they’d have to get fuel. She wasn’t sure how often they’d have to stop, but when they did, there would be a chance.

She looked at his face, at his very dark, long eyelashes. At his lips, perfect for a man. His nose was pretty damn nice, too. Oh, who was she kidding? He was a babe, and even her, with her limited knowledge about men, knew he’d been around the block many, many times. Probably with fabulous women, because, well, come on.

Had he really told her the truth last night?

She shivered remembering his whispered words just before he’d made love to her. God, that was the sexiest thing ever. She sighed, knowing she was behaving like an adolescent.

And why not? She’d stunted her growth, her heart had atrophied-and for what? All that planning, all that fear hadn’t helped one damn bit. She’d still been kidnapped. So she could have been having a fabulous life all this time instead of whining about her regrets.

At least she wouldn’t regret last night. If she had to go, this was the way to do it. Well, not this. This sucked. She needed Michael to be okay. She could face whatever came next if he was beside her. Alone? She’d rather die than be that scared again.

A moan made her freeze, hold her breath. She watched him, afraid to blink, as he moaned again, moved his head. He winced, and that had to be a good sign, right?

“Michael?”

He opened his eyes just a little, then closed them again. “What happened?” His voice sounded thick, dry.

“They hit you.”

“With what? A refrigerator?”

“I don’t know. They brought you in last night. Well, early this morning, although I’m not sure what time. They dumped you on the bed and told me to tell you that if you tried that again, they wouldn’t be so nice.”

He tried to lift his head but just winced again. “Yeah, they were real swell.”

“It was brave of you to try,” she said. “Hold on. I’ll cool down the washcloth.” She took the small blue towel from behind his head, making him hiss, then hurried to the bathroom. The water was really cold, which was good. She wished she had ice, though.

When she got back to the bed she saw he hadn’t moved at all. She tried to be gentle as she applied the cold compress, but she hurt him anyway.

“Is it me or are we moving?”

“We set off sometime around sunrise. I think.”

“Right.” He put his hand on the back of his head, trying to feel the extent of the damage, but in the end he just held the cloth and slowly sat up. “Jesus.”

She reached over beside the bed and brought back a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. “I got this ready. I figured-”

He moaned again and took the aspirin bottle from her hand. He brought the cap up to his mouth and snapped the bottle open with his teeth. Then he dumped a bunch of the small white pills in his mouth. At least six.

“Won’t that-”

He dropped the open bottle, took the glass and drained it in a few hard gulps.

“That’s a lot of aspirin,” she said.

“It’s a very large headache.”

“You need to eat something, then. Your stomach lining will get very irritated.”

He looked at her through shuttered eyes. “I appreciate the concern, but my stomach lining is the least of our worries.”

“Fine.”

He patted her hand. “Don’t be hurt. It’s good of you to care. But I’ve taken this many before and I’ve been okay.”

“Still…”

“You’re right. I hope they feed us soon. I promise to eat every bite.”

She sat back, adjusting some of the pillows so she could look at him comfortably. “How did you get into the other room? I didn’t even see you go.”

“You were sleeping.”

“I gathered.”

“I’m pretty good with locks.”

“I gathered that, too. But we have no idea how many people there are on board. It would have been pure luck if you’d been successful.”

He winced again, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t about the pain in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let things get this far.”

“You’ve done everything you could.”

“Not everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I’ll figure this out. I won’t let them hurt you.”

She reached over and touched his hand. “I know.”

He looked away, and she wished she’d never brought up the subject. “Let me get you some more water.”

“It’s okay. I’ll go.”

“No, you’re-”

“I want to wash up,” he said. “And you should go through those clothes again. I’m pretty sure I saw at least one T-shirt that would fit you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Try. A shower will make you feel better.”

She smiled at him, amazed that even now he was thinking of her. That he could look so good even when he was in so much pain.

Once he’d closed the bathroom door, she went to the dresser and found a couple of men’s T-shirts that she thought they could each wear. There was also a bikini that would substitute for underwear. She’d wash her own in the shower, then…

Would she be alive tomorrow to put on her own underpants? Did she want to die wearing someone else’s skimpy bikini?

Tears welled at the thought of never seeing her father again. He’d overprotected her, but he’d done it out of love. For all his preoccupation with business, he’d always kept her close. Loved her the best way he knew how.

And, oh, God, never to see Sara again? That hurt as deeply as the thoughts of her father. Sara might not be a blood relative, but in every way that mattered she was a sister. A damn good one, too. They hardly ever fought, but she never hesitated to tell Tate the unvarnished truth.

The ache to see her friend again took her breath away, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. It was probably a good thing Dr. Bay wasn’t around. What an idiot. Fake kidnappings. Please. The woman needed major therapy herself.

Tate sniffed, her anger at her therapist distracting her from the pain of her losses. Once again she thanked God for Michael. She’d have lost it without him. She just wished she could do something to make him feel better.

AT LEAST, MICHAEL thought, there was no way he could feel worse. What the hell had happened to him? He was supposed to be a goddamn warrior, a fighter, a champion.