Then something moving toward her caught her attention. A slice of black on white. A figure hovering. A man bending down. A face etched with concern.
“Are you all right?” Atticus asked.
Andrea’s vision cleared, and she saw Atticus. His forehead was wrinkled with concern and covered in sweat. The oppressive heat of the room felt like a heavy electric blanket.
“I’m hot,” she said as she sat up straighter. A stab of pain in her ribs caused her to wince. “Think I bruised my ribs.”
As Atticus took her by the hand and began pulling her to her feet, her thoughts slowed enough for her memory to return. She had questions that needed to be answered before she went anywhere with him. She yanked her hand away. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
“Now’s not the time.”
“Now or never. I’ll take my chances with the Hawaiian.”
Atticus sighed. “I guess…I thought you might talk me out of it.”
That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. How could she talk a man bent on avenging his daughter’s death out of what he believed needed to be done? Her face softened as she realized he was being truthful. “How is that even possible?”
“Remember the wallets?”
History slammed into Andrea’s mind, replaying in flashes. During their first summer together, Atticus had stolen a case of wallets from the local church basement. They were ugly and plastic, colored maroon and blue, featuring a flowered design surely created by a ninety-year-old woman. Atticus took the wallets door to door, selling them for a dollar each, far more than the hideous wallets were worth, but doing a good job of peddling them nonetheless. At the end of the day, he had made fourteen dollars, from selling wallets he had stolen from a church.
The culmination of his plan had been to buy toys with his illicit money, but Andrea had laid into him, pouring on guilt, exposing him to higher morals. In the end, she talked him into giving the money back to the church, but in a way that would not get him in trouble. That night, they attended the nighttime summer church service and sat through an awful concert. When the offering came around, he placed the fourteen dollars in the offering plate. No one missed the wallets and the church had made more money from them than they would have trying to sell them in the church bookstore.
Andrea smiled. “I still have one of those wallets.”
“Me too,” Atticus said. In fact, several still hid around the family cabin. “You always knew how to make me see things from a different perspective. I was afraid you still could.”
“And this time I’m not alone. I have something for you.” She unzipped the front of her wet suit, reached in, and pulled out a small Ziploc bag. It held a single photo; the one from the beach. Atticus took the photo, his hand immediately trembling. “Thank you-oof!”
A blur of bright colors flashed by Andrea’s vision, erasing Atticus from her view.
“I’ll kill you!”
Andrea looked down and found her Hawaiian-clad rescuer pummeling Atticus. He took the first two blows, one to the head and one on his shoulder, but quickly managed to block the next few. Frozen by the sudden violence, she watched as Atticus’s face changed from that of a kind man missing his family to a trained killer’s.
Then it happened. Atticus caught both of Remus’s hands, pulled himself farther down through his straddled legs, brought his own legs up behind the man, and looped them around his throat. With a sudden jerk, Remus gagged and was flung backwards.
As Atticus and Remus regained their feet, Remus produced a five-inch blade and grinned fiendishly. Atticus moved his hand to his waist and found the. 357 holster empty.
“Looking for that?” Remus said, pointing behind him, where the revolver rested on the floor. There was no way Atticus could reach the weapon without receiving a five-inch puncture wound in his back.
Remus moved in, whipping the knife back and forth so haphazardly that Atticus couldn’t block or predict where the next attack would come from. Each slice cut air as Atticus dodged backwards. The backs of his legs bumped into the slat of wood jutting from the wall. He fell back onto the seat just as the knife swept across his eyes, missing by inches.
“Stop!” Andrea yelled, but neither man heard her. “Stop or I’ll shoot” She accented the statement by pulling back the hammer of her Coast-Guard-issue SIG P229R-DAK. 40 caliber handgun.
Remus froze.
Atticus moved.
With amazing speed, Atticus twisted Remus’s wrist, dislodging the knife. As Remus was just beginning to register the pain, Atticus caught the knife and brought it up to Remus’s throat.
With a growl, he said, “Try to kill me again and I’ll return the favor.”
Remus trembled as he glared at Atticus with liquid hatred, tempted to act even with a knife to his throat and a gun to his head. He looked like an animal, barely contained in the shell of a man.
“Oh dear, oh dear. I do believe that will be quite enough of that.” Trevor Manfred slid into the room with a grin on his face. “Now that you’ve all had your fun, why don’t you explain to me what the devil is going on?”
Remus replied, “He tried to-”
“I would prefer to receive an answer from someone with more brains,” Trevor said. “It’s clear you have, yet again, offended our guest.”
“He wasn’t that much trouble. Like a fly, easily swatted.” Atticus removed the knife from Remus’s throat and shoved him away. Remus caught himself against the wall, clearly enraged and ready to continue the fight.
A strong slap on his ear shocked him out of his rage.
“Switch off, you oaf!” Trevor shouted. “You are to stay away from both Atticus and his guest. I’m docking you one month’s pay. Don’t fail me again.”
He bowed his head.
“Now sod off.”
Remus exited, his head turned down, afraid to look Trevor in the eyes.
Trevor turned his attention to Andrea. His eyes burned with anger. “You have no business being on this vessel, and if I didn’t think your government would give me the runaround, I’d press charges. In the meantime, I leave you in Atticus’s hands. However, you must first sign a nondisclosure form.”
With that, Trevor removed a folded piece of paper and a pen. “It’s fortunate I was on my way down here with this.”
Andrea was incredulous. “What!”
“Make no mistake; you are trespassing on this ship. If you do not sign a nondisclosure form, stating that everything you see, hear, and smell on this ship will be kept confidential, you will be thrown overboard.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“There are a number of technologies on the Titan, the nations of the world would love to get their hands on. I can’t have you leaking information.”
“More like national treasures.”
Trevor smiled. “You say tomatoes…Now sign it.”
Andrea looked up at Atticus. With a sour face, he nodded his agreement. “Any testimony you could give about what you see on board would be disallowed anyway because you broke into the ship.”
“The voice of reason!” Trevor slapped Atticus playfully on the back. “I like this man more and more every day.”
Andrea took the pen and paper and quickly signed. Trevor took the paper and pocketed it. “There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it, my dear?” Before Andrea could object to being called “my dear” one more time, Trevor headed for the door. “Welcome to the Titan. Do try to get some sleep tonight; for in the morn, we hunt!”
“Wait,” Andrea said. “Do I have a room?”
Trevor smiled wide. “You can stay where you undoubtedly want to stay, with Atticus. After all, every hero needs a woman to couple with before the final battle.” With a “ta ta,” Trevor left the room.
Atticus bent down and picked up the photo of his family and his. 357, placing the gun back in its holster. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. It’s hot as hell.” He looked back at her and reached out his hand, causing a nervous twang to move up through her body. The idea of spending the night with Atticus was tantalizing, yet wrong. Too soon. When Atticus spoke, she realized there was nothing to worry about, or look forward to.