Charlie shook his head, trying to inch toward the door. “I gotta go. They catch me talking to you, it’s trouble all around.”

“Don’t you fucking move,” Mikey said, pressing his body closer. “You tell me right this minute how many weapons are on board.”

“I don’t know.”

“Charlie, I swear to God-”

“Mikey, I don’t know. On Ma’s grave, I don’t know. They keep me in the dark.”

“Then find out.”

Charlie was sweatin’ now. He could feel it dripping on his forehead, down his back. “I can’t, Mikey. Don’t ask me, ’cause I can’t. You know I can’t lie worth shit.”

“You managed to lie to me.”

“No, no I didn’t.”

“Find out, Charlie. Every single gun, rifle, harpoon, knife-you hear me? You find out and you get that information to me. If you try to pull something, I swear on Pa’s grave, I will hunt you down and I will hurt you worse than you could ever believe.”

“Yeah? Well, Martini will kill me. He’s already threatened to throw me overboard.”

His brother’s arm went back, and Charlie flinched, but the punch never came. When he opened his eyes, he saw the woman behind Mikey, touching his shoulder. Shit, he hadn’t even seen her when he walked in.

She looked different. Better. Pretty. No wonder Mikey liked his job so much. Must be sweet to get to work with a rich broad who looked like that.

“Get out, Charlie. Get out, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get me what I want to know.”

“I’ll try. That’s all I can do.”

Mikey spun around and Charlie wasted no time getting the hell out of there. Back in the saloon, Jazz was smiling like he’d been to the circus.

“Have a nice visit?”

Charlie almost told him what for, but he didn’t. “No.”

“What does he want you to do?”

He shouldn’t say. Mikey was his brother, after all. His own blood. On the other hand, Martini had never liked him much. And Jazz? He was a goddamn psycho. “He wanted to know how many people were on board. How many guns.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him nothing. I swear. I said I don’t know, ’cause I don’t.”

Jazz gave him the once-over. “Watch your step, Charlie. It’s a big ocean out there.”

Charlie went out on the deck, staring at that ocean and planning how when Jazz wasn’t looking, he’d be the one to go swimming. Next time he wouldn’t tell Jazz a damn thing. He’d show them. Stupid rat bastards. Soon as he got home, he was gonna go to Len Taub’s off-track parlor. Screw Ed. Screw Jazz.

TATE WASN’T SURE what to do. It wasn’t easy watching Michael pace, so angry the vein on his forehead throbbed. But he also seemed to be working something out, at least from the bits and snatches of his mumbles that she caught.

Today was the first time she’d looked at Charlie. Jazz had brought them everything since that day she’d learned that Charlie and Michael were brothers. It had been upsetting, seeing them together, at least at first, but then, watching their interaction after spending so much time with Michael…she knew that she’d been right to believe him.

Michael might be good at his intelligence work, but he wasn’t Olivier. He couldn’t have made up his rage at Charlie. God, they were so different. Like night and day.

She decided she wasn’t going to say a word. Let Michael pace, let him swear and plot and plan. While he was occupied, she took one of the sandwiches from the tray Charlie had brought, then she went to the bed and got the notebook she’d asked for two days ago.

It wasn’t anything special, just an unlined notepad, but it was better than writing on the walls. Jazz had been reluctant to give it to her, too. Why, she had no idea. Who was going to see it? A passing sailfish?

Anyway, she curled her legs underneath her, got the pillow behind her back and turned to a new blank page.

“Dear Sara,” she wrote, remembering where she’d left off. “Jazz brought a bunch of shopping bags into the room, then left us to sort through them. I was thrilled to find underwear-although, jeez, the slime-ball had gotten the most revealing things he could find. I swear, it looked more like he’d shopped at Frederick’s of Hollywood than Victoria’s Secret. Michael didn’t seem to mind, but he played it cool.

“There’s simply no way to forget why we’re here. It’s not a pleasure cruise, and there’s no beach party waiting for us in Grand Cayman.

“I’m just grateful Michael is with me. He thinks he’s failed, that he’s responsible for what’s happened. I can’t agree. It wasn’t his fault he had Charlie for a brother. But I can’t seem to make Michael stop worrying about it and save his strength for when we dock.

“Personally, Sara, I think the real truth is that this whole thing was my fault. And before you say it, yes, I think Dr. Bay was more than idiotic. What I mean…You know the old saying ‘You reap what you sow’? Well, I’ve been ‘sowing’ being kidnapped since Lisa. I know it makes sense that I was obsessed, but I didn’t do near enough to get myself out of that insidious loop.

“I was given tremendous gifts and I squandered them to live in the land of what-if. No more. I am here, today. I am with Michael and he is with me. Together, we’re strong. Even me.

“I-”

He sat in front of her, making her pen jolt like a lightning bolt up the page. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

She hid her gasp as he said the words, his face showing her that it wasn’t an idle threat. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? He got you kidnapped, Tate. He stole from me and he’s probably going to get me killed. If I don’t do something about it, we’ll both die, and it’ll be because of Charlie.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter that he did all this. You can’t kill him. He’s your brother.”

“Not anymore.”

“He’ll always be your brother.”

Michael stood up again. “No. I’ve done everything I could to help him. I’ve bailed him out of jail, I’ve given him money for his bookies, I’ve spent thousands putting him in rehab. He just wants more and more, and I have no more to give.”

“Still-”

“Tate, if it was just me, I could see cutting him a little slack, although it wouldn’t be for him but for my father. But to put you here? No. It’s over. It stops. Now.”

“I understand. I really do. But you’ll have to live with whatever choice you make.”

He smiled at her with a tenderness that made her melt. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Period. Now are you going to keep writing in that journal or are you going to take my mind off the rest of the universe?”

“Oh, you want to play charades?”

“Ha. You’re funny.” He slipped the notebook from her fingers and tossed it to the floor. The pen was dispatched next.

Then it got really interesting.

SHE SLEPT AS HE TORE a couple of pages from her notebook and found the pen where he’d tossed it hours before. The longer they remained on the boat, the more he worried that he’d never get her home.

The whole reason he’d come up with the idea of the Cayman bank was to give himself time. But had that backfired? Were there so many armed men on the boat that he couldn’t take them?

The fact that he even thought that bothered him more than he could admit. Last year, would he have hesitated? Would he have given this motley crew a second thought?

He could take Martini and Jazz. As long as he knew where they were and no one jumped him from behind, there was no contest. But there were other people on board, and he had no idea where they would be at any given time.

He hadn’t been a complete slouch. At night, when Tate was asleep, he’d done something in the way of recon. He’d only been out of their cabin twice, but he’d gotten a lot of information on both silent trips.

The first, he’d gotten a damn good idea about the saloon and the outer perimeter of the boat. He drew what he remembered now in a diagram that would help him put together the pieces he hadn’t seen.