Immediately her heart started pounding as though she was seconds from an attack. When she turned to the door, the tunnel vision started, taking her straight down the road to immobility and failure.

She closed her eyes. Took several deep breaths. She pictured her safe place, but the vision of her waterfall didn’t help. The voices-Michael’s and another man’s-were too loud.

Then she changed her visualization. It wasn’t her old green meadow. It was Michael. His face. His eyes. The way he looked at her, then smiled.

She smelled his skin and remembered his taste. Salty, sexy. She brought up the memory of his fingers on her face, and then his fingers weren’t near her face. He was leaning over her, and his intentions were incredibly clear.

He wanted her. He wanted her.

The vision changed once more, and she was carrying her Sig Sauer. And there was Michael. Tall, handsome as sin. And he had his gun, too. He had her back. And she had his. No one was getting past the two of them.

She went to the bathroom door, and as she swung it open she heard the other one yelling.

“You swore to him, Mikey! You swore to our father that you’d take care of me. You think breaking in to hurt Mr. Martini is keeping me safe? You got to cool it, Mikey, or he’s gonna kill all of us, okay?”

Tate’s vision narrowed once more. All she could see was the look on Michael’s face. Shock, anger. Guilt.

He was in on this. He was in on this. She’d slept with him, and he was in on it.

MICHAEL SHOT A LOOK at Charlie that had him scrambling out the door, but his main concern was Tate. She looked unsteady, panicked. Everything he’d hoped to avoid.

He went to the bathroom door and put his arm gently around her waist. It was a testament to how bad off she was that she didn’t slap him in the face. “Come on. Let’s get you to the bed.”

She struggled, but so faintly he figured he’d better get her to lie down before she fell down. Goddamn Charlie. It wasn’t enough to fuck up his own life, he had to fuck up Tate’s. Good job, asshole.

As he took her to the bed, he reached for her wrist and got a feel for her pulse. Dammit, it was off the charts, a full-blown panic attack, and he wasn’t at all sure he could help her.

He turned her around and pressed gently on her shoulders. She sat, her hands limp by her sides, her face pale and lifeless. The only thing animated about her was her breathing. She took great gulps, as if the oxygen was far too weak to sustain her.

He wished he could enjoy her shorts, her tight little T-shirt, but he gave them only a glance as he tried to gauge his next move. He needed her to understand what was going on. He expected no forgiveness at all, but he did think they could work together until this horror show was over. If he could just get her to hear him-to believe him.

He sat down next to her, his shoulder touching hers. She didn’t move, but she didn’t lean into him either. “Tate, I need you to listen to me. First, this is all my fault. However, it wasn’t intentional. My brother has been a pain in my ass for a long, long time. I should have cut it off between us years ago, but…

“Anyway, he came to my place, and when I had to leave the room, he broke into my safe. He saw the information I had on Brody. I wouldn’t give him the money to pay off his bookie, so he stole that information and used it as a way of getting out of debt. That’s why you’re here-because I let Charlie into my apartment. I didn’t realize he’d go this far-and I should have.”

As he paused he saw her eyes jig over to look at him, but they went back to staring straight ahead a second later. “I know it’s hard to believe anyone could be stupid enough to let Charlie in the same borough, let alone his apartment. He’s been nothing but trouble from the time he was a kid. He stole, he took drugs, he had no sense about the world. It was always someone else’s fault with Charlie, mostly mine.

“My mother had died a long time ago, and my father did his best to keep Charlie out of trouble. He got sick-my dad, I mean-and he made me promise I’d take care of Charlie. I gave him my word, and that’s not something I take lightly.

“It was all right because I spent so much time overseas. You know I was in intelligence work, but you don’t know why I left the service. It was Charlie, one more time. He stole a briefcase from a fellow officer’s car. He was caught and he went to jail, but because of me they didn’t charge him with treason. I couldn’t stay in the service after that.”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought she’d leaned a little more his way. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if she was listening or, if she was, whether she believed any part of his story. The only concrete change he saw was that she wasn’t struggling quite so hard to breathe.

“You feeling a little better? I can get you some water.”

She shook her head, and he wondered if she was saying no to the water or to feeling better.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Why should I believe you?” Her voice was low, a monotone of bleak expectation.

“There’s no reason at all. I had planned on telling you about Charlie, but honestly I wasn’t sure when. I didn’t expect you to have a minute of sympathy for my situation, but I didn’t want you to hate me so much that you wouldn’t accept my help.”

“You made love to me.”

“Oh, God. That’s what I was most afraid of. I didn’t have ulterior motives-no, that’s not true. There was a hope that, after, you could get some rest. But the motivation for kissing you, that’s been around for a long time. I’m not sorry we did it, only that I wasn’t smart enough to know the best way to handle this situation. You’ve been doing so great. Your attacks have been less frequent and less severe, and if you can keep that up until we’re safe, then it’ll change your life.”

“When did you know?”

“That Charlie was behind this?”

She nodded.

“When I followed you here. When I looked into the saloon I saw him. A few seconds later I was knocked out.”

She turned her head to look at him. At least she had a little more color. “The fifty million, heading off for the Caymans…it’s too much to believe.”

He nodded. “I know some things about Ed Martini. There’s a reason we’re on this boat. Once he’d gotten the ransom from your father…”

“He’d have killed me.”

Michael nodded.

“I imagine he’ll kill me after I sign the papers at the bank. The question is, will he kill you?”

“He won’t kill either of us. I told him about the bank to stall for time. I had to make the prize big enough, so I told him fifty million. I had to make it far enough away that he’d have to take on fuel and supplies.”

“They knocked you out last night when they should have killed you.”

“Because they think I’m the only one who can get you to sign the papers.”

She shook her head a little, and her eyes welled with tears. “You tell a good story, Michael. But then, that was your job, wasn’t it? Telling stories to manipulate people?”

“That’s right.”

“So how can I know? How can I possibly believe what you’ve told me?”

“I don’t know. I do know that I’m going to resign as soon as I have you back safely.”

“I wish I hadn’t heard him,” she said. “It was so much better.”

“You would have found out. It was inevitable. Ironically, I’d planned on telling you right after your shower.”

“Michael,” she said, whispering, “why does it bother me more that you made love to me than that you had me kidnapped?”

He wiped his face with his hand, wishing like hell he could tell her at least one thing that would convince her that he wasn’t lying. “It’s because you doubt yourself. How attractive you are. How smart and funny.”

“Oh, don’t. Don’t do that to me. It’s hard enough.”

“Is there anything I could say that would help?”