I’m sorry it has to end like this,” Matthews said, his knife still firmly pressed against Christina’s throat. “I enjoyed working with you, and hoped we’d do it again. And I’m tired of killing. I admit, it was fun for a while. It was a release, a release of so much that had been pent up so long. But I thought it was over. I hoped never to do it again.”
The bizarre thing was, the man actually sounded sincere. “Then don’t,” Ben said. “Don’t kill anyone. Most especially, don’t kill Christina.”
“Second the motion,” Christina murmured. She was being brave, but Ben knew she had to be terrified.
“I’m afraid I have no choice,” Matthews answered. “You know too much.”
“But I won’t tell anyone. I’ll be quiet as a church mouse.”
“If only I could believe that.”
“You can,” Christina urged. “Ben is a man of his word. If he makes a promise, he keeps it. Even to—” She stopped short.
“Even to killers?” Matthews finished. “Sorry. I can’t take that kind of chance.”
Through the glass-bottomed portal on the deck, Ben could see into the cabin. The fire was spreading. The flames had consumed the tablecloth and started in on the table.
“The yacht is burning, Matthews. If you let it go any longer, there won’t be much left.”
Matthews pushed Christina’s knees out, scooting her forward so he could get a closer look through the portal. “You’re right,” he said. “But with the money I stand to make, I could buy a dozen yachts. Give me those bonds! Now!”
“Shame to see a boat like this go up in smoke,” Ben continued. “What happens if the flames reach one of those boilers? Or the fuel tank? We’ll all go up in smoke.”
“Damn you!” Matthews shouted. “Give me those bonds!”
Ben walked to the side of the boat. “You will release Christina this moment.”
“Listen, you little—”
“You will release Christina, or I’ll drop the bonds into the sea.”
“No!”
“Think about it, Matthews. Millions of dollars turned into fish food. If they go in, you’ll never be able to get them back. Never in a million years.”
“If you do that,” Matthews bellowed, “I’ll slit your girlfriend’s throat.”
They were at an impasse, and Ben didn’t know how to break it. They each had something the other wanted—and a threat that effectively prevented the other from getting it. But for how long? Matthews had killed before—many times. If this went on much longer, he would surely snap. He’d kill Christina, then hope he could get to the bonds before they sank to the bottom of the sea.
He had to think of something. There had to be a way out. But what was it? He couldn’t think of anything.
Fortunately, Christina could. “Would you mind moving that blade farther from my face?” she asked Matthews. “It’s awfully cold. I think I’m getting a chill.”
Matthews smiled thinly. But he did not move the blade.
“But seriously, you don’t want me coughing and sneezing all over you.”
“Then tell your boss to give me the merchandise!”
“I would, but he never does anything I say.”
“I’m not amused.”
“See for yourself. "Ben, give the man his merchandise." See? He didn’t do it.”
Matthews’s face twisted into a bitter snarl. “I’m going to count to ten, Kincaid. And if I don’t have the bonds by the time I reach ten, I’ll slit her throat.”
“Don’t do it, Matthews.”
“One. Two.”
“Matthews! Your boat is burning!”
“Three. Four.”
“Matthews!”
“Five. Six.”
“Ohmigosh.” Christina’s hands rose to her face. “I think I’m going to sneeze.”
Christina cradled her face, as if to sneeze. Then, with a level of coordination at which Ben could only marvel, Christina managed to do three things at once. She faked a sneeze, knocked the knife away from her throat—and jabbed the spike end of her heel into his shin.
Matthews stumbled backward. His grip on her arm relaxed. Christina broke away and tried to run, but he managed to grab a piece of her dress. He jerked her backward, knocking her to the deck.
Ben dropped the bonds and ran for him. He tackled Matthews, trying to knock him over without success. He was too strong, plus he was still holding the knife. Ben tried to wrestle with him, but at the same time he had to stay out of reach of that blade.
“You haven’t got a chance,” Matthews sneered. He brought his fist around and hit Ben on the side of the face. Ben fell backward, reeling. Matthews followed up with a full-body block.
Ben tried to grab the steel ladder, but he just missed it. He fell backward, tumbling off the deck onto the metal scaffold below.
Matthews turned back toward Christina. “Now it’s just you and me.” He stood up, straddling her. “Nine, ten. Time’s up.” He lifted the knife into the air with both hands, then began bringing it down, hard and fast, straight toward Christina’s throat.
A shot rang out, splitting the night air. Ben, still dazed, clambered up the ladder, trying to see what had happened. Matthews had been knocked backward; he was lying flat on the deck. The knife had fallen out of his hand. His arm was bleeding, limp and motionless.
Ben found the source of the shot on the starboard bow. A small motor-boat was pulling up beside the yacht. He didn’t know the older man at the helm, but the guy leaning across the prow with a gun in both hands was very familiar.
“Mike!” A flood of relief washed through him. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“Long story.” As the other boat pulled in closer, Mike jumped onto the yacht. He came up the ladder behind Ben. He walked straight to Matthews, who was still conscious, although he appeared to be in considerable pain. “You’re under arrest, you sorry, sick son of a bitch.”
Ben ran to Christina’s side. “Are you all right?”
She pushed herself up by her arms. “I’m okay. Just shaken up.” She looked over at Mike. “Talk about your sight for sore eyes. Am I ever glad to see you.”
“I aim to please.”
She threw her arms around him and hugged him. “You did. Although next time, maybe, could you get here a little earlier? The last split-second thing is very dramatic, but once is enough.”
Mike smiled wryly. “I’ll work on that.”
Matthews glared at Mike, his teeth clenched with rage and pain. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
“You know what? You’re right. But you didn’t, you loser, so now I’m going to make you pay for what you did.”
“I did nothing.”
“You killed six people! After torturing them! You don’t even deserve to live.”
Ben peered through the glass bottom. “We have to get out of here, Mike. The yacht’s on fire.”
“There’s a fire extinguisher in the cabin,” Matthews said.
“Like I’m going to risk my life saving your stupid boat.” Mike whipped out his handcuffs and snapped one end over Matthews’s left wrist. “Come on.”
He started to snap on the other cuff, but all at once Matthews lurched forward, knocking Mike’s gun hand away. Mike fired, but the bullet went wide. It crashed through the glass portal and entered the main cabin.
“The bullet hit the gas tank!” Ben shouted. “The gas is leaking!”
“My God,” Mike murmured. “Gas and fire. Now we really do need to haul ass.”
Christina was already down the ladder and heading toward the motorboat. “Hurry!”
Mike jerked the loose handcuff on Matthews’s arm. “Come on, asshole.”
“I’m not going.”
Mike shoved him hard. “You are going!”
Matthews barely moved. “I’m not letting you take me in. Not now. Not after everything I’ve done. I know what will happen to me.”