Moon over Maalaea Bay by H. L. Wegley Page B

up the ramp with his knife. “Whatever you’re thinking, I wouldn’t try it. Move. Faster.”
    Clearly they wanted to transfer her quickly, while the yacht blocked the view of anyone on the shore and before the sun popped over the mountain.
    Jennifer slowed, testing them, trying to make something happen, and immediately felt pressure from the knife against her spine. Feeling she had little to lose this point, she slowed further and gauged Snake’s response.
    The knife moved.
    Pain radiated through her neck as the knife punctured her skin. Blood trickled down her neck, staining her tank top.
    “Move.”
    “You fool!” The exclamation came from a booming voice on the yacht. “Do not scar her. I do not deliver damaged goods.” Those were Trader’s words. The company slogan?
    “Sorry, Mr. James. But she has become extremely uncooperative.”
    “Use your imagination, Snake. Not your knife. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, sir.” Snake leaned forward and hissed into her ear. “If I’ve scarred you too much, Cookie will still take you. He’s got a hundred grand that he’d be delighted to spend…all for you.”
    She tried to ignore him while she moved slowly up the ramp towards the yacht. Snake was trying to play head games with her. She hoped he continued that approach. If he did, eventually he would lose. That and the fact that Mr. James had just robbed Snake of his preferred method of motivation, cruelty, gave her a small measure of hope.
    At the end of the ramp, Jennifer stepped onto the yacht. The large, luxurious vessel had three or four rooms along the side where she had boarded. The owner, probably Mr. James, was obviously a man of wealth. Probably a man of power. He didn’t appear to be the type who was enslaved to uncontrolled desires, like Cookie. But the desire for power and wealth could also enslave a person.
    She glanced into Mr. James’s eyes as she passed him. He had eyes the eyes of a hawk, seeing everything and seeing it as his prey. The man looked cold and calculating. No. James was not the consumer in this ugly economy.
    Jennifer was certain she would be sold to someone else. That meant she still had some time. How much time? Would it be enough to escape? What if they drugged her again? If they did, she would be sold and could do nothing about it.
    Drug me? I can’t let that happen. Not at any cost.
     
     
     
     

14
     
    Lee glanced up from his coffee cup when the door to the shop flew open. A tall, slender, blonde teenager wearing blue shorts and a white tank top zigzagged between chairs and tables and then threw her arms around him.
    Tears fell onto his bare arms as Katie buried her face into the top of his shoulder. “Please tell me they found her, Lee, and that Jenn’s OK.”
    Granddad’s trim, fit seventy-two-year-old body quickly caught up with Katie. He met Lee’s gaze with a face etched with lines of worry. “Is there any news?”
    Lee stroked Katie’s head and wiped her cheeks. “Yeah. There’s some news, but let’s get you two some caffeine, and then I’ll catch you up on what’s happening.”
    “I can’t think about coffee until you tell us about the—”
    Lee put his fingers over Katie’s lips. “There are too many unfriendly eyes and ears on this island. The trouble is I can’t tell our friends from our enemies. Let’s get you some coffee and move to the tables outside. It’s more…private.”
    Katie’s eyes widened. “Do you mean that—”
    “Yes. We need to talk privately. But first, let’s order something to keep you two awake.”
    Katie rubbed her bare arms. It’s wet here, like it’s been raining. It’s hot, too.”
    “It’s called humidity, Katie. I’ll order you something cold to drink. Black coffee for you, Granddad?”
    “Yes, please.” Granddad took Katie’s arm and pulled her towards the door leading to the patio. “Katie and I will wait for you outside.”
    Lee turned to the barista.
    The young man had clearly spotted Katie. His gaze