Chapter One

     The angry red sun shone its light on the blue Atlantic, turning it a
deep shade of purple, as it sank farther into the water.  Evening was
descending on Angela Kelly's first day of vacation.  She thought what a
beautiful sight it was, viewed from the bow of the yacht that she and her
two friends had chartered for the next three days.
     The unusual vacation had been Charlotte's idea, a good one for
once.  They all felt they needed a break from their mundane lives,
maybe even a little adventure.  The middle of the Atlantic ocean seemed
like as good a place as any to find it.
     Charlotte James had a lot of ideas, most of them belonging in some
romance novel.  But then, that's where her nose usually was, so that
made sense.  She was always talking about how to catch a man.  Oh,
not just any man, 'The Man', Prince Charming, Sir Galahad.  She had
such high expectations for the Captain of this yacht, thinking he might
be 'The One'.  It had been so funny watching her face when this
scraggly, sea bum had jumped down from the yacht to help them
aboard.  The third member of their merry band, Ginny Raymond, had
turned to her and whispered, "What do you think, is he Captain
Wonderful?", then broken into giggles when Charlotte smacked her on
the shoulder.
     Mr. Chandler, that was the captain's name, wasn't so bad, he just
didn't like shaving.  He was somewhere in his mid-forties, too old to be
a proper prince.  Just your average, tired-of-the-rat-race, drop-out.  He
didn't say much as he showed them to their cabins, telling them to 'stow
their gear below.' Angela thought that a quaint way to put it.  Very
sailorish.  Charlotte had sighed, shrugged, and gone to check out her
cabin.  Next, she examined Ginny's home for the next three days, and
finally, Angela's tiny room claimed her attention.
     "Angie, yours is nicer, a little bigger, I think, but mine is up front,
near the bow."
     Charlotte looked smug, and Angela knew she was supposed to be
impressed with her knowledge of ships.  She decided to play along,
make her friend happy.
     "The bow?"
     "That's what the front of a ship is called."
     "Oh.  Do you have any idea when this boat is leaving?"
     "Angie," Char rolled her eyes, "this is a yacht, or a ship. A 'boat' is a
submarine."
     Angela smiled.  Charlotte was so easy to please.
     "Thank you for that bit of indispensable knowledge.  Now, do you
know how soon we will be out of this smelly harbor?"
     "I'll go ask the captain."
     "Char, I really don't think he's a captain.  I think he just steers this
thing.  By the way, is there a crew?  I didn't see anybody but him when
we came aboard."
     That 'find-a-man' gleam reappeared in Charlotte's eyes.  Ginny, who
had walked up behind Charlotte in the middle of the 'boat' speech,
smiled at Angie and rolled her eyes.  Charlotte looked down at her
sailor-suit romper.
     "Do you think this is too cutesy?  I brought a
barely-more-than-a-blouse sundress, but I thought I'd save it for
nighttime.  Maybe I should change."
     Her look of indecision made Angela laugh.  She walked between the
two girls, making a forward motion with her finger.
     "Let's go see what's happening on deck, shall we?"
     They followed.  When the three had met in college five years ago,
Angela had just naturally become the leader.  She could usually keep a
level head, something the other two didn't always achieve.  Charlotte
tended to panic if things got too rocky and rush headlong in the wrong
direction.  Ginny resisted anything that she deemed too drastic.  Angela
kept an open mind most of the time.  She would always weigh a
decision carefully, but quickly, and when she had decided on a course
of action, she was very difficult to sway.
     The ship had a crew of four men, none of whom came up to
Charlotte's rigid standards. "Too scruffy, too dirty, too...Ugh!" she
declared with a dramatic shiver. They headed out to sea immediately. 
The girls quickly changed into their swimming suits and went on to the
deck to catch some sun.  After all, three days seemed a very short time
to live a fantasy. They stayed under the protection of the big umbrellas
placed around the deck. Laying out was no longer fashionable, what
with wrinkles, skin cancer and all the other solar boogie men.  But the
sun was so wonderfully warm, they just wanted to bake a little while
their tanning creme did its thing.
     As the sun dipped into the west, one of the crew, an unkempt
dishwater blonde named Bert, came on deck, leering, and said that
dinner would be served on deck in an hour.  He grinning wink in
Ginny's direction earned him a glare that could have melted steel.  He
just chuckled, shrugged and went about his duties.
     Giggling at Ginny's "as if, in a thousand lifetimes, if he were the last
man on Earth" grumblings, the three girls went to their cabins to change
for dinner, then returned to the deck.  A somewhat ratty, checkered
tablecloth had been laid over one of the sun tables, and it was set for the
evening meal.  They were starting to seat themselves when men
appeared from nowhere to help.  Every one of the crew took part in
serving the ladies, gawking and leering at regular intervals.  The dinner
itself, baked fish and vegetables, was actually pretty good.  The girls sat
on deck, drinking wine and watching the sun set, while the crew cleaned
up below deck.
     As Angela enjoyed the panoramic view of the ocean, she noticed
several tiny specks on the horizon that seemed to grow as she watched.
Joining her friends' conversation - about men, of course - she didn't give
the specks much thought. When she looked back, there were only two
specks, but they were close enough to identify them as small
powerboats, 'cigarette boats', she had heard them called on 'Miami
Vice'.  They seemed to be headed straight for their yacht.
     Angela felt a small thrill of excitement at the unexplained crafts'
appearance, then smiled a little self-consciously.  All her life, she had
wanted to do something spontaneous, a little dangerous.  She realized
that now she had done it, she was trying to make it more exciting than
reality warranted. The boats probably held weekend fisherman.
     Charlotte caught sight of the approaching boats.  She sounded
somewhat excited.
     "I wonder who they are."
     Angela grinned at Charlotte.
     "Think they're drug runners, come to rape us and steal the ship?"
     Charlotte gave her a sarcastic smirk.
     "If they are, I hope they're cuter than the men on this heap.  Did you
see the cook?  He's got a leer on him that would make a hooker blush. 
And I think Bert's got a crush on you, Ginny."
     "Please!"
     Charlotte laughed.
     "He keeps looking at you."
     "Yeah, like he wants to eat me.   I wouldn't touch him with...what's
the matter, Angie?"
     Angela suddenly stood, causing the others to stop their conversation
and follow her surprised stare.  A man was coming over the side of the
ship.  He was something right out of a pirate movie.  Long black hair
fought to free itself from the red silk bandanna tied around his head to
keep the unruly mass out of his face.  A large, wicked knife clasped
between his teeth made him look as though he were smiling widely.  He
had a small machine gun, the Mac-10 Angela had seen in a million
Bruce Willis movies, slung on a leather strap around his neck.
     As he gained the deck of the yacht, he gave them a very brief
up-and-down glance, then turned his attention to the door that led
below deck.  Smoothly pulling the knife from between his lips, he
slipped it into his waistband behind his back.  Then he raised his finger
to his pursed lips, whispered "shh", and started toward the door.
     Angela was not one to be shushed.  The gall of the man!  Besides,
she couldn't quiet the fear raging inside her stomach, and whenever
Angela got scared, she had to do something.  She would figure out what
was going on, fight, whatever was necessary.  But she would definitely
not shh!   She took a step forward, bringing her one step nearer the
strange and frightening man.  Charlotte gasped, reaching out to try to
stop her.  But it was too late.
     "Who are you and what are you doing on our boat?"
     The pirate turned a look of menace on Angela that she wouldn't
forget if she lived to be a hundred.  His chocolate eyes, which had
sparkled with something akin to mischief just seconds before, were now
aflame with black anger.  He snarled and made a slicing motion across
his throat with his hand.  Angela was further incensed.
     "Don't keep telling me to be quiet!  We chartered this boat and we
have every right...oh!"
     With lightning speed, he had his arm around her waist, pulling her
hard against his muscular body.  His knife, which had miraculously
reappeared in his hand, was pressed flat side against her throat hard
enough to make her choke.   He put his mouth next to her ear, his
breath tickling her tender earlobe.  When he spoke, Angela shivered
slightly.  His voice was a mere whisper, no louder than the wind on a
cool summer night, but the menace was as unmistakable as a cobra's
quiet hiss.
     "Unless you want a blood bath here tonight, keep your mouth shut."
     He pulled her sideways and leaned his head back to look into her
eyes. His words had had the desired effect.  When he saw the fear in
her eyes, the arrogant twinkle returned to his.  With one curt nod, he
pushed her back down into her chair, where she landed hard, and
turned back to his mission.
     Fear, an unfamiliar emotion, began creeping up Angela's spine.  She
considered crying, something she did rarely, but immediately cast that
notion aside.  Charlotte and Ginny were staring, wide-eyed, from their
respective places at the table.  If she gave in now, she would be letting
them down.  Later, when this was over, she would have a good cry in
private.  But right now her friends were counting on her to do
something, preferably the right thing, and she had to have all her
faculties about her if she were to make a good decision on their next
move.  First, they had to figure out just what exactly was going on.  She
took a deep, calming breath and stood up.
     "Ginny," Angie pointed starboard, "go look over that side of the boat
and see what's down there.  Charlotte, you go towards the bow, see
what you can find.  I doubt this guy's alone."
     Charlotte looked about to bolt.
     "What's going on, Angie?  Who...?"
     "Char, I came into this movie the same time you did.  I'm not sure,
but I think this may be a hijacking."
     Angela frowned, continuing to search for answers.
     "But that doesn't make sense, there isn't anything here to make it
worth their time."
     An idea suddenly struck her.  She brightened and spoke excitedly,
thinking she might have it figured out.
     "Unless there's some cargo on this boat that we don't know about. 
Drugs, maybe. Or Cuban cigars. Something illegal. Yeah, that's it. 
They'll find it and they'll leave.  The less we see of them, and them of
us, the better.  We should go to our cabins and lock ourselves in.  No,
let's not separate.  We'll go to my cabin."
     She gave Charlotte a little reassuring smile.
     "Mine's bigger anyway."
     Angela sprang into action, heading for the stairs that led to their
cabins, then paused as she realized that they would have to follow the
same path that that man had taken.  She took another deep breath and
ran down the stairs, her friends following on her heels.  There was no
sign of him as they slipped into her cabin, closing and locking the door
behind them.  They all sat on the little bunk, seeking comfort in
closeness, as only good friends can.  It was so quiet, they could hear
each other breathing.
     Impetuously, Angela threw an arm over her friends' shoulders,
pulling them closer to her.  She forced a light tone, keeping her voice
soft.  Referring to one of their more notorious acts of mischief, she said,
"Come on, we're gonna be okay.  This is no worse than the Dean's
office, and we got out of that."
     Their second year of college, Angela's boyfriend had suggested what
a kick it would be to make out in the Dean's office.  The three couples
had sneaked into the office after dark and gotten comfortable.  As
things were getting hot and heavy, Ginny, who was sitting on her
boyfriend's lap in the Dean's desk chair at the time, had looked up to see
the Dean coming into the outer office.  They had all scrambled into the
coat closet, a very tight fit, trying to keep quiet and pull their clothes
back into place at the same time.  Seems the Dean had the same idea
about getting romantic in his office.  However, the young, scantily clad
lady he was with was one of their classmates, not his wife!
     The six of them had sat scrunched in that closet for what seemed
like hours, trying to keep quiet, while the Dean got his trailer hitch
dechromed.  The guys were getting so hard just listening to the two
going at it outside, that they almost lost it in their pants.  They had all
laughed about it later, but at the time the girls had been certain their
time at that school had expired.
     On the imperiled yacht, the three friends subdued laughter over the
memory helped ease the tension of the moment, making them feel more
secure about their chances for uninjured survival.
     Then the yelling started.  It seemed to erupt from all around them at
once, the yacht coming alive with noise. There was the sound of
running footsteps over their heads, on the stairs.  An automatic weapon
opened fire somewhere on deck and there was a scream, a man's
scream.
     Charlotte jumped up, looking around as though she had lost
something.  Her eyes wild with fear.  Angela stood and grabbed hold of
her shoulders.
     "Where are you going, Char?"
     "We've got to hide!  They're killing people!"
     Angela gave her a little shake.
     "Be quiet!  We don't know that anyone is killing anyone, ok?  Even
if they are, there's no better place to hide, Char.  Our best bet is to keep
quiet and stay out of sight."
     She led Charlotte back to the bunk, resumed her place between her
friends, and waited.
     It was quiet again.  When there hadn't been a sound for several
minutes, Angela stood.
     "Maybe they've taken what they came for and left.  I'm going out to
take a look.  You two stay here."
     Both started to protest, Ginny standing to better make her point. 
Angela motioned toward the bunk.
     "Sit!  Ginny, I know what I'm doing," she hoped God would forgive
her that little lie.  "I'm...there's less chance of one of us being noticed
than all three of us.  I'll be right back."
     Angela said the last with more force than she had intended and
wondered who she was trying to convince.  She opened the door a
crack, looked down the passageway.  Nothing moved.  She turned and
whispered, "There's no one out there now.  I'm going to go up on
deck."
     She opened the door, stepped out and closed it in one fluid motion. 
When she turned toward the stairs, she was looking into smirking brown
eyes.
     "You forgot to tell them to lock the door behind you."
     Angela took a step back, intending to retreat into the room, but that
man's hand closing tightly on the bodice of her sundress froze her in
tracks. He pulled her roughly toward him, twisted his body and, letting
go of her dress, pushed her up the stairs ahead of him.  Startled and
frightened, she nonetheless kept quiet to avoid bringing her
well-meaning friends to her rescue.
     When she reached the deck, she saw one of the crew sprawled on
his face just beyond the top of the stairs, several bloody holes across his
back.  She stopped, inhaling sharply through her clenched teeth. That
was a mistake.  The stench of gunpowder and blood filled her nostrils,
making her cough and seriously consider being sick.  A hand in the
small of her back shoved her forward, forcing her to step over the dead
man or fall headlong on top of him.  She jumped over the body, then
turned to face her tormentor. Eyes flashing sapphire fire, her blonde
hair whipped over her shoulder by the force of her angry turn, she had
no idea what a stunning portrait of female outrage she presented to her
captor.
     Caught in a maelstrom of confusion and fear, Angela threw caution
to the wind. "Who the hell do you think you are?!"
     Mr Red Bandanna planted his feet on either side of the dead man's
body and crossed bulging arms over a massively muscled chest.  Angela
couldn't help notice the raw masculine grace in every move. He had the
physique of a body-builder and the smirk of a street-gang punk.  How
she wanted to smack that arrogant look right off his face!
     When he spoke, his voice was soft, the timbre deep.
     "You better chill out, girl."
     Menace dripped from each syllable of his softly spoken words.  He
lowered his eyelids to half-mast, bringing his chin up an inch.  Angela
continued to glare at him, her fists clenched at her side further evidence
of her anger.
     "And you had better take yourself off of this ship before the
authorities respond to our distress signal!"
     He threw his head back and laughed, a loud, sarcastic 'Ha!'.  When
others joined in his laughter, Angela looked around to see several
disreputable looking men lounging around the deck.  She gave them
each a glare, just to let it be known that she wasn't afraid of any of
them.  She counted 15 in all.
     "Good bluff, but I doubt you have any idea what a distress signal is,
let alone if one was sent.  Which, by the way, it wasn't."
     His look was somewhat contemptuous.
     "We been at this a while, girl, don't you think we're smart enough to
keep 'em from getting a signal off?"
     "From the look of you, you're not smart enough to tie your own
shoes!"
     She glanced at his feet.  Black boots jutted from beneath black jeans. 
She smiled sweetly into his face, one eyebrow raised in pert
punctuation.
     "I rest my case."
     He narrowed his eyes, was about to say something else when a voice
from behind him startled them both.
     "Hey, Rafe, look...wait!"
     The bandanna-ed one whipped around to face the intruder, pulling
his fist back menacingly.
     "You know better than to sneak up on me like that!  What the hell's
the matter with you, boy?"
     His fist remained in the air, and Angela wasn't sure if he were going
to strike or not.  She could see a man standing on the stairs, looking up
at the obvious leader of what she had come to fear were pirates.  His
wide eyes staring at that menacing fist showed that he wasn't sure either.
     Rafe - Angela assumed that was the pirate's name - pulled his fist to
his chest, then flexed his hand and dropped his arm to his side. 
Suddenly, his hand came back up, finger jabbing at the man on the
stairs' chest.
     "Don't do it again."
     Although his voice had raised with his fist, the last was spoken very
softly, almost a whisper.   The pirate who had had the misfortune to
startle Rafe heaved a very audible sigh of relief.  He smiled as he
remembered what he had found, held out a box of Twinkies.  Rafe
laughed and stepped aside so he could pass.  As he did so, Rafe
good-naturedly slapped him on the back hard enough to make him
stumble.
     Rafe looked toward Angela again, true laughter lighting his face. 
His eyes crinkled at the corners, his fine lips parted over perfect white
teeth.  His laugh was soft, like his normal speaking voice, and
melodious.
     The man who had dared to sneak up on Rafe continued walking,
concentrating on the task of opening the box of Twinkies.  He looked
up just before he would have run into Angela.  Surprised, he stopped
and held out the Twinkie box, which he had succeeded in mangling
open.
     "Hi, I'm Rat.  Want one?"
     His smile was engagingly genuine.  She gave him a questioning smile
in return.
     "Rat?"
     "Yeah, short for Packrat.  I find things."
     He gave a little shrug, then frowned in concentration.  He was trying
to hold the box and open one of the plastic packages at the same time. 

He reminded Angela of a monkey trying to open a banana with only
one hand.  His face brightened with a thought.  He put the top of the
package between his front teeth, took hold of the seam and pulled.  The
plastic tore suddenly, all the way to the bottom.  The yellow cake flew
into the air and would have hit the ground if a dark hand hadn't come
from behind Rat to catch it.  Rafe stepped to Rat's side, an indulgent
smile softening his face.  He handed the cake to his blushing friend,
who spit the plastic onto the deck.
     "Thanks.  She's pretty.  We gonna keep her?"
     Rafe's expression changed.  His eyes became hooded, his smile that
of a shark sighting prey.  He surveyed  the deck, then gave Angela an
appraising look that made her burn with renewed anger, and some other
foolish emotion she didn't choose to look at too closely right now. 
Rafe's tone was thoughtful.
     "Maybe."
     His smile once again made Angela want to slap him.  He turned and
his voice boomed as he called out orders.
     "Blade, go below, first cabin starboard.  Get the two chicks and their
stuff.  Carefully. Take them to my boat.  Mike, make a last check, see
that we didn't miss anything.  Bear, you and Moose bring up the stiff
from the galley.  Toss it and this one," he kicked the body at his feet,
"overboard.  Where's the skipper?"
     One of the men pulled Mr. Chandler from a deck chair.  Angela
hadn't noticed him there before because Rafe had been blocking her
view.  The yacht captain's nose was bloody, his wrists bound in front of
him with what looked like a plastic twist tie.  He was pushed, stumbling,
toward Rafe, who pulled him by his shirtfront to stand in front of him.
With his face almost touching that of his prisoner, Rafe demanded in his
soft voice, "How many men crew this yacht?  And how many
passengers are on board?"
     "You bastard, why should I tell you anything, you're gonna kill me
anyway!"
     Rafe flashed a Death's Head grin in the man's face.
     "Yeah, but there are easy ways to die, and there are hard ways to
die.  Tell me what I want to know and you go easy, give me grief... "
     His arched eyebrow and a slight tilt of his head completed the
sentence.  Mr. Chandler hawked and spit right in his arrogant face. 
When Rafe took a surprised step backwards, the captain raised his
bound fists to strike.   He never got the chance.  Rafe's knee rammed
into his groin, sending him crumbling to the deck, moaning and grasping
the injured area.
     Angela gasped and started to kneel beside the retching captain. 
Steely fingers twined in her hair, yanked her up and tossed her across
the deck, where she landed in the deck chair that Mr Chandler had
occupied just moments earlier.  She looked up to see Rafe glaring down
at his victim as he wiped his face with his hand.  He leaned down and
cleaned his hand on Mr. Chandler's shirt.  When Rafe straightened, the
look on his face made her certain that demons roamed the earth and
Mr. Chandler had just run afoul of one.
     She started to stand and the pirate leader turned that glare toward
her.  His voice was so soft, she had to strain to hear his words.
     "If you dare to interfere again, I'll take you right here on deck, then
give you to my men.  You got that?"
     Angela swallowed hard, nodded and sank back into the chair.  She
watched in horror as he pulled his knife from behind his back, certain
that he was going to cut Mr. Chandler to shreds.  Instead, he strode to
where the pirates he had ordered to get rid of the bodies were about to
toss their burdens into the sea.  Without a word, he pulled a body from
one of the big men's shoulders and dropped it so that it lay bent
backwards over the rail.  He thrust the knife into the dead man's
abdomen, pulled up to his sternum.  Angela looked away, not willing to
lose her dinner over this display of savagery.  When she heard a splash,
she thought it might be safe to look, though 'safe' was not a word easily
applied to anything happening to her at the moment.  Both bodies were
gone, and several of the pirates, including Rafe, were looking off the
side of the yacht at the ocean below.
     Angela nearly jumped out of her skin as the relative quiet was
shattered by a shriek of feminine joy.  Charlotte was barreling across the
deck, Ginny right behind her.
     "Angie, you're all right!  I thought they'd killed you.  Oh, God,
what's happening?!"
     Angela stood just in time to have two pairs of arms thrown around
her, both of her friends wanting to reassure themselves that she was
indeed still in one piece.  Charlotte was crying, rather loudly, and
Angela turned her attention to quieting her down before she could
annoy anyone with her sobs.
     "Char, I'm ok.  Please stop crying, I can't hear myself think.  You
sound like a drowning cow!"
     Charlotte gave her a frown, snorted and wiped her hand across her
eyes.  Her irritation at her friend's unflattering description of her
emotional display shut down the plumbing for the moment.
     Angela spoke softly, though she doubted that anyone was paying the
least bit of attention to them at this moment.
     "I'm not sure what's happening.  I think these guys are modern day
pirates, but I have no idea what they're after.  Their leader is a total
son-of-a-bitch!  That's him, the one with the knife."
     As she pointed Rafe out to her friends, he stuck his knife back in his
pants and began tying a piece of rope around Mr. Chandler's wrists. 
When the captain started to struggle, Rafe kicked him, lightly, in the
groin.  He went limp.  Rafe tied the other end of the rope to the rail. 
He put his hands under his victim's arms, hoisted him over the ship's rail
and let him fall.
     Rafe must have felt Angela's eyes on him then because he turned
and looked directly at her.  She shivered.  He was enjoying what he was
doing, his eyes glowing with evil delight.  He stalked slowly toward her.
     "He's bad news with a capital bad."
     Trust Ginny to be so succinct.  Angela stepped protectively in front
of her friends.  He barely seemed to notice, a slight raising of one
eyebrow his only acknowledgment of the other women even being
there.  He grabbed Angela's arm, pulled her to the rail.
     "Now, watch what happens to people who fuck with me!"
     Against her better judgement, she followed his gaze over the rail. 
The captain hung against the side of the yacht, his legs dangling in the
water.  Rafe pulled his knife again and she stepped back, eyes wide.  He
gave her a contemptuous smile, then ran the blade quickly over his own
palm.  He held his bleeding hand out over the water, squeezing and
releasing his fist so that drops of blood fell to the ocean below.  There
was a ripple in the water, then a fin appeared.
     Sudden, horrible understanding came to Angela.  She grasped the
rail, wanting to stop this terrible thing from happening, knowing she was
powerless to do more than watch.  And realizing that she was, for the
first time in her life, unadulteratedly terrified.  Her knuckles turned
white as the first huge shark came up out of the water, trying in vain to
capture Rafe's fist in its mouth.  Rafe retreated a step, narrowing his
eyes and smiling wickedly.
     As another less aggressive shark brushed past his legs in the water,
Mr. Chandler screamed, a sound none of the three women now
standing at the rail of the yacht witnessing this sick drama would ever
forget.  Rafe grabbed the rope, blood from his cut palm smearing the
dirty hemp, and pulled so that the captain came completely out of the
water.  The pirate's muscles bulged with the effort, his upper body
expanding before their eyes.  As if on cue, gaping jaws sliced the water,
surrounding the lower half of the dangling body.  With a vicious jerk,
the rope snapped and the great fish dropped back into the ocean, taking
Mr. Chandler to his watery grave.
     "The hard way, you stupid bastard!"
                          Chapter Two
                                
Rafe's blazing chocolate eyes sought Angela's trembling figure by the rail. She raised her frightened eyes to his, equal parts
fascination and horror shining in their brilliant blue depths. There was awe in her voice as she spoke in a near whisper.
"You killed him."
For one second, she saw something in his gaze, something soft and indefinable. Regret? Sorrow? He blinked slowly,
erasing what she thought she had seen with one brush of his long-lashed eyelids. Angela put it down to her own wishful
thinking.
His eyes were cold bronze once again.
"No, honey, I didn't kill him. His own stupidity killed him."
He stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, his long, slim fingers digging into her tender flesh. She winced, but
didn't try to move away from him or break his hold on her. He loosened his hold slightly, a look of approval fleeting across
his face, then spoke softly, menacingly, his hot breath fanning her cheeks.
"Let's see if you're any smarter than he was. How many passengers are on this boat?"
"Just the three of us."
Fear made her breathless, her words sounding timid. Or was it his closeness, his body almost touching hers, that seemed to
sap the strength from her limbs?
"How many crew?"
"Four."
"Counting the skipper?"
She gave an unnatural, high-pitched laugh that she didn't even recognize as her own.
"Not anymore."
She shrugged one shoulder and arched an eyebrow in a self-effacing gesture. He searched her face, trying to figure out if
she were laughing at him or just reacting, rather well actually, to the shock of the last few minutes. He decided on the latter
and smiled, pleased with her courage.
"That means there's one man unaccounted for. Do you have any idea where he might be?"
His hands on her shoulders were more of a caress now, his fingertips sliding over the smooth skin in little circles. Angela
felt as though she were being hypnotized by his touch.
"No. They went below to clean up after dinner. That was the last we saw of them."
Good lord, she even sounded like she was in some kind of trance! Angela snapped her head up, coming precariously close
to bumping his nose with her own. She blinked quickly, several times. He chuckled, then released her and turned to bark
out more orders.
"There's another man on board, one of the crew. Spread out and find him. Alive!"
As men started moving about the deck, he reached out and grabbed one of them, Rat of the Twinkies, by the shoulder,
causing him to very nearly jump out of his skin.
"Rat, take the women to my boat. Keep 'em there."
Rafe cast a slit-eyed glare at Angela and her friends, letting his eyes remain on her a second longer than the others. His
words were soft, their meaning hard.
"If you give Rat any trouble you can swim home."
Rat started toward the side of the ship that Rafe had originally come over.
 Rafe's voice, slightly husky with laughter, stopped him.
"Rat, be careful going over the side. Ocean's hungry tonight."
With that, he turned to join in the search for the missing crew member. Rat looked over the side of the yacht, swallowed
audibly, then threw his leg over. He grasped the rail tightly, then swung his other leg over. The three girls looked over the
side in unison, wondering if he were about to meet the same fate as Mr. Chandler. Rat was deftly climbing down a rope
ladder that had been tied to the rail of the yacht. He stepped into one of the cigarette boats that Angela had seen earlier. It
was secured to the yacht by some kind of hook. No doubt some kind of pirate tool, Angela thought with disgust.
Rat smiled up at them, holding the ladder in his hands to steady it.
"Ok, your turn."
Angela looked from Ginny to Charlotte, then back at Rat.
"You've got to be kidding. You can't honestly think that we're going to climb down that thing with all those hungry fish out
there just waiting for one of us to slip. You're crazy!"
"Come on, it's easy. Just don't look down. And if you fall, I'll catch ya."
"Sure, and we'll both be shark buffet. No thanks. I think we'll just stay on this yacht until help comes."
More bravado. Angela knew there was little chance of rescue at this point, but she wanted to keep believing that help
would come for them, that they were going to get out of this in one piece. She jumped as a shout sounded behind her.
"Blade, toss one of them down to Rat."
Angela whipped around as she heard a scream. The pirate they called Blade had Ginny in his arms and was starting to lean
over the side. Angela saw red. She reached out and grabbed a handful of Blade's long, dark hair and pulled back as hard as
she could, effectively drawing him, and Ginny, away from the danger of the water.
Blade dropped Ginny on the deck and turned, knife in hand, to face his attacker. Ginny let out an outraged "ow!" then
turned and bit him on the leg just above his boot. Blade yelped and dropped his knife. He reached down, grabbed Ginny by
the hair and shook her head in an attempt to make her open her mouth and release his leg.
"Let go, bitch!"
He raised his fist. Angela dropped to one knee, grabbed the knife and stood. She put the knife in her right hand and held it
above her head, like Anthony Perkins in Psycho. She started to step forward, ready to plunge the knife into the pirate's
heart, when a yell that shook the floorboards of the yacht stopped her in her tracks.
"Knock it off!"
All three combatants looked up. Rafe had Charlotte by the throat, his knife resting lightly against her pulse.
"Drop the knife, girl."
He spoke more softly now, but his voice held no less authority. Angela let the knife fall to the deck. Rafe gave Blade a very
contemptuous look, his lip curling into a sneer.
"Pick up your knife and get to your boat."
Without a word, Blade stood, retrieved his knife and headed for the other side of the yacht. Grasping the rail, Ginny pulled
herself to a standing position. She rubbed her butt where she had landed, then her head where Blade had done his best to
remove a chunk of her hair. Blade pointed his knife at her as he walked away, a silent promise that this battle was not
finished. She glared at him, even as she noticed what beautiful eyes he had, eyes the color of slate.
Angela and Rafe were having a silent battle of wills, their eyes blazing, neither willing to be the first to look away. Angela
noticed with a bit of trepidation that Rafe was shaking, she presumed with anger. Tough! She'd be damned if she were
going to let someone treat her friends like this and get away with it! She didn't care how mad he got.
Suddenly, he lifted Charlotte into his arms, leaned over the rail and, without breaking eye contact with Angela, dropped
her. Charlotte screamed. Angela yelled, "No!", and ran to the rail. Charlotte was in a heap on top of Rat, who was trying to
get back to his feet. He glared up at Rafe, started to say something, then, seeing the pirate leader's eyes, thought better of it.
Strong fingers twined into Angela's hair and she gasped as she was pulled around to face eyes of molten chocolate. Rafe
put his other hand on her bottom, pulled her tightly against his hard crotch. In a vicious move that could barely be called a
kiss, he ground his lips against her mouth, cutting her bottom lip. She pushed against his chest, where her arms were
trapped between their bodies, but to no avail. His arms were like bands of steel, his hand tangled in her hair a punishing
reminder of who was in charge of this encounter. To her everlasting disgust, she whimpered at the pain. He immediately
released her mouth and raised his head to glare into her eyes.
"Get this straight, girl. You and your friends do exactly what I say when I say it or you all pay the consequences. I'm gettin'
bored with this stupid ship of yours, so get on that ladder and climb!"
"But I don't..."
His shout almost punctured her eardrums.
"Get on that ladder or I'll throw you to the damn sharks myself!"
He pushed her toward the rail. She might have gone over the side if Ginny hadn't grabbed her arm to steady her. Tears of
fear filled her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She swore she'd die before she'd let him make her cry.
"I've got a great idea, Ange, let's add rope-ladder-climbing to things we learned on our summer vacation."
Ginny threw one leg over the rail, giving the water below an angry glare. Angela grabbed her arm.
"Ok, it looks like we don't have much choice. I'll steady the rope from up here. Be careful."
Angela gave Ginny what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she started down the ladder. Rat was holding it below and
Angela grasped the rough hemp where it was attached to the yacht's rail, trying to provide all the safety she could for her
friend.
 When Ginny's foot slipped, Angela reached for her from above as Charlotte tried to do the same from below. Ginny
grabbed the rope and steadied herself. Unfortunately, Charlotte's movements had started the cigarette boat rocking. She
yelled "help!" as she started to lose her balance, then she fell flat on her back in the middle of the boat. Rat turned to grab
hold of her, missed, and, with a scream of fear, fell head-first into the shark-infested ocean.
From the corner of her eye, Angela saw a flash of red. She turned toward it to see Rafe execute a beautiful dive from the
side of the yacht, his red silk scarf flying out behind him. His body sliced the water leaving barely a ripple to note his
passing.
Rat was coughing and sputtering, trying to get his bearings and swim toward the boat. Then he stopped moving, staring at
the ocean as it stretched out to the side of the boats. A large fin was gliding gracefully through the water, headed straight
for him.
Rafe's strong breast stroke brought him quickly to Rat's side. He cuffed Rat on the side of the head to get his attention, then
took hold of his shoulders and turned him toward the speedboat.
"Swim, Rat, get your ass on that boat!"
His temporary trance of fear broken, Rat began swimming as fast as he could. Unfortunately, that wasn't very fast.
Everyone watching the drama unfolding before them could see that the shark would reach Rat long before Rat could reach
the safety of the boat.
As much as Angela didn't want to see another man sucked into the gaping jaws of an ocean monster, she couldn't look
away. Then she realized that Rafe was not swimming toward the boats. He was splashing around in the water, yelling at the
shark.
"Over here, you brainless hunk of fish guts! I'm over here."
Angela held her breath as the fin changed direction, heading for Rafe. What in Heaven's name was he doing? Didn't he
realize the danger? Did he think he was invincible? Or did he just not care?
Rat reached the cigarette boat and climbed over the side to lie panting, trying to catch his breath, oblivious to Rafe's
danger.
As the fin came closer, Rafe watched its approach, judging its speed and distance. He knew that this would take
split-second timing. He laughed. Hell, even then it was crazy. But he didn't let doubt enter his mind. The plan might be
insane, but he would make it work. His will was undeniable.
When the fin reached the point Rafe had picked for his attack, he jumped high into the air then folded his body and dived,
his stockinged feet flashing white, then disappearing under the deep blue surface. He pulled his knife from behind his back
and, as the great fish slid by above him, drove the blade into its underside, using its own momentum to gut it from stem to
stern. The other sharks smelled the blood and quickly collected for dinner.
Holding his breath till he thought his lungs would burst, Rafe swam underwater, which would cause less turbulence, thus
attracting less attention from the frenzied sharks. He went under the cigarette boat and came up between it and the yacht.
He propelled his body up out of the water, sucking in great gulps of oxygen, and grabbed hold of the side. Kicking hard, he
swung his leg out of the water and over the side, his body following.
After checking on Rat, who was still getting over his trauma, completely unaware of what had just happened in the water,
Rafe climbed the rope ladder to return to the yacht.
Angela exhaled a cry of "No!" as Rafe dived under the water. She saw the great fin pass the place he had disappeared, then
looked away when blood tinted the water purple. No matter what else he had done, the pirate leader had just heroically
sacrificed himself for his friend. The sobs that she had been doing so well at holding back were beginning to seep out in
little gasps. Angela sank slowly to her knees on the deck, her hands over her face, trying not to give in to her tears.
When strong hands grasped her shoulders, Angela looked up to find Rafe on one knee in front of her. He was soaking wet,
his scarf gone, his long black hair sticking to his face and chest. Drops of seawater clung tear-like to his eyelashes. His eyes
held a look of soft question.
"Rafe!"
Angela threw her arms around his neck, hugging him so suddenly and fiercely that he almost lost his balance. He steadied
himself with one hand on the rail as he wrapped his other arm around the soft female form clinging to him. Something
about the way she was sobbing, trying so hard not to make a sound, tugged at his heart, made him want to reassure her that
he was all right.
Rafe pushed his foot forward so that his leg was partially wrapped around her and he was balanced. Then he coiled both
arms tightly about her upper back and crushed her to him. Her head dropped back to look wonderingly at his face, and it
seemed the most natural thing in the world to let his lips touch hers. To draw the life back into his body from her lips.
She tasted so good, like honey and salt. He wanted more. He deepened the kiss, letting his mouth crush hers lightly. She
parted her lips and he thought he might lose his mind if he didn't take her right now. He bent her back, bracing her body
against his outstretched leg, and slowly explored her mouth with his tongue. She tensed a little and he squeezed her more
tightly, letting her know that she was safe and protected and he was in control. She relaxed in his arms, combing her fingers
through his wet hair, massaging his scalp.
A voice in the back of Rafe's mind whispered, "If she's this good just kissing, what will it feel like to have her naked under
you? To slide into her welcoming body, feel her nails dig into your back?" Rafe shivered. His tenuous hold on his desire
was starting to give way, and he wanted to let it go.
The shock and horror of the day had taken Angela's mind near to the breaking point. In some strange twisted way Rafe was
the only thing powerful enough to hold insanity at bay. Thinking him dead had sent her spiraling dangerously close to
complete despair. Now, with him seemingly returned from the dead something primitive was taking hold of Angela. The
age-old desire to seek the most fit male to protect her. She wanted to touch him, to be sure that he wasn't just a figment of
her imagination. When his wet, yet strangely warm, arms wrapped around her so tightly, she felt a jolt of electricity like
nothing she had ever known. Sensation came alive inside her body, zinging from his touch on her back to her stomach to...
'Get hold of yourself!', her logical mind reached to regain control.
Angela dropped her head back, thinking that looking into those cold brown eyes would snap her quickly back to reality, but
Rafe's eyes were soft warm sherry, igniting her veins. When their lips touched, Angela knew she was lost. She had never
wanted anything as much as she wanted to feel this man lying next to her, his skin bare to her touch. She wanted him to
take her in his arms, tell her how much he loved and wanted her. And, God help her, she wanted him inside her! She could
feel moisture gathering there, readying her body for his entrance.
And she had dared to call Charlotte the hopeless romantic!
He began ravishing her mouth with his tongue, invading, claiming completely. The spasms inside her body startled her and
she tensed. The solid wall formed by his tightening arms let her know she had nothing to fear, that he was there to protect
her. Her mind was whirling, part of her knowing that this was not right, the other part caring only about the sensations
coursing through her body.
His hand found the top of her sundress. He slid his fingers under the band of elastic that held it secure, reaching for the
mound of soft flesh hidden beneath the protection of thin cotton. Angela held her breath, knowing that the touch of his
hand on her breast would send her spiraling up to heaven.
"Hey, Rafe, we found the guy. You want us to take him to one of the boats and wait while you finish with the chick, or
what?"
At the first word, the fragile spell between them was broken. Angela felt the words sink in, realized what she had almost let
happen. She pushed on Rafe's shoulders, pulled her mouth away from his caressing lips. He pulled his head back and she
watched as his eyes actually changed color, going from a light, sherry brown to a hard, dark chocolate. He stood, pulling
her with him. She was happy to find that her legs didn't turn traitor and let her crumble to the deck as she had feared.
Rafe turned to the man who had spoken. His hand lashed out like a striking snake, the back of it catching the man's mouth,
cutting his lip.
"I aughta rip your damn head off and spit down your neck!"
The man under attack stepped back, holding his hands up in front of him to ward off another blow.
"I'm sorry, man. I thought you'd wanna know we found 'im. I didn't think you were doin' anything important."
Rafe's fists were clenched white at his sides, his whole body shaking with anger and frustration. He took several deep
breaths. The man stood in front of him, waiting. Rafe dropped his head, chuckled.
"I've got a hard-on that won't quit and you don't think it's important."
He looked up. The man in front of him relaxed, soothed by whatever he saw in Rafe's eyes.
"Yeah, take him to Blade's boat. We're outta here. Did Chris set up the explosives?"
"Yeah. He gave the detonator to Rat."
"Ok. Let's do it!"
Rafe took Angela's arm and started toward the rail where his speedboat was attached to the side of the yacht. Angela
stopped, wrenching her arm from his grasp. Her eyes were spitting blue ice, her voice indignant. 
"You've got a hard-on?! You son-of-a-bitch! Is that all that was, just wanting to be rid of your hard-on?!"
He smirked, shrugged.
"Yeah, so? What 'dya think it was, true love?"
That smirk was too much. This cretin had just made a fool of her. And in front of all these people, including her two best
friends in the world. And, worse, she had let him. Well, she wasn't going to let him get away with it. Putting all her rage
into the action, Angela slapped Rafe across the face.
He stood perfectly still for several seconds, the imprint of her hand beginning to take bright red shape on his handsome
face. His eyes told her of her impending doom. In a move faster than her eye could follow, his hand shot out and clamped
down on her throat. He pulled her face so close to his that they could take the same breath, though his hand let a scant
amount of oxygen pass into her body. His whisper stirred the hair at her temples.
"You're either very stupid or very brave. They'll both get you killed if you mess with me."
He let go of her, pushed her away from him. She grabbed her throat, gasping for air. He seemed to approve of her reaction.
"Don't ever do that again. Nobody hits me and lives. Since you're a chick and I've got plans for you, I'll let you get away
with it this time. But don't press your luck, girl. Now, get on that boat!"
                         Chapter Three
                                
Angela used all of her courage and determination to hold her head high and proudly walk away from the pirate leader
instead of giving in to her first instinct, which was to run like hell. She walked to the rail, gripped it in clenched white fists,
and tried to throw her leg over as Rat and Ginny had done. One look at the water below and her muscles froze and refused
her commands. She tried to tell herself that she was being silly, she wouldn't fall, but her body didn't believe her. It stayed
right where it was. She could feel him standing behind her, waiting.
"Do you want me to throw you to Rat or what? He's not always the best catcher, ya know. Fine!"
When she didn't move to climb over the rail, he started to pick her up. She turned her eyes to him and he saw stark terror
shining there. He released her and stepped back to get a better look. She was indeed terrified. Why? Did she think he was
going to make her walk the plank? He glanced down at the water and understanding dawned.
"Can you swim?"
Angela studied her feet as she gave a little shake of her head. This was her final humiliation, having to admit to this
horrible man that she was too afraid of the water to have ever mastered it.
She had tried as a child to learn, she really had. She wanted to please her parents when they put her in that awful swimming
class. But the water was so vast, she couldn't control anything in it, not even herself. Even at the tender age of nine, she had
dreaded making a fool of herself. She had diligently listened as the instructor told them all about breathing correctly, a
ridiculous concept if you asked Angela, since there was only one way to breathe. Then she had valiantly climbed into the
water. As she felt the warm liquid swirl around her, trying to drag her to the bottom, she had been gripped by the worst
panic of her young life. In a state of shock, she had to be lifted out of the water and carried to the locker room. She had
done no more than wade since that embarrassing episode.
Angela had never admitted her irrational fear to anyone. Although her friends knew that she 'didn't swim very well', they
had no idea that she actually feared the water. That was one of the reasons she had agreed to this vacation. She didn't like
being afraid of anything, least of all something as common as water. She had decided that the time had come for her to face
and conquer her fear. And, up until now, she had been handling it very well.
She was pulled from her thoughts by Rafe's finger under her chin, semi-gently lifting her eyes to meet his. He was smiling,
no smirk now, as he turned his back to her and said over his shoulder, "Climb on."
"What?"
"Piggy back. Put your arms around my neck, wrap your legs around my waist," he was glad she couldn't see his grin at that
suggestion, "and close your eyes till I tell you to open 'em."
Angela balked, yet she could tell by the tone of his voice that he hadn't meant it as a suggestion. Tentatively, she put her
hands on his shoulders, slowly bringing them together in front of his muscular neck. He reached up, grabbed her forearms,
and leaned forward lifting her off the ground. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his lower body. He sucked a quick
breath through his teeth, then took hold of her feet and raised them higher on his abdomen. He slipped off her shoes and,
yelling, "Rat, catch," tossed them over the side.
Seeing the ocean below them, Angela started to have second thoughts. She began sliding her legs to the ground. He grabbed
her feet, more roughly this time, and pulled them higher.
"Girl, I can only stand so much. Hold still and keep your eyes closed."
Now that her feet were bare, Angela could better feel where they rested. She realized with a furious blush where her feet
had landed to begin with, where they had slid as she thought about climbing from his back. She pulled them as high up on
his body as she could. He chuckled, a deep rumble that she could feel vibrate through his body. And into hers. She was
pressed so tightly, so intimately, against him.
Angela's pulse beat in her ears, as she felt the rippling muscles of his back caress her soft center. She shivered with the
feeling, pressing her face against his back, trying to pull that part of her away from the torment of his working muscles.
The attempt made her feet start to slide downward. As her heels came into contact with his erection, he groaned, freezing
his movements on the rope ladder until he could regain his control. Angela whispered, "Sorry, I slipped," into his back, as
she tried to pull her feet back to an acceptable position. In moving her feet, she rubbed her heels against him. Letting go of
the ladder with one hand, he clasped one of her feet, stilling her movements. His words were forced through gritted teeth.
"Just hold still, girl!"
"My name is Angela."
He would have smiled at her interesting timing if he could have unclenched his jaw.
"Hold still, Angela."
She liked the way he said her name, even though his voice was a little strained. She could feel his muscles working
everywhere her body touched him, even his neck. He was massively muscled, hard as a rock. Everywhere. She blushed
again at that thought.
Rafe thought he was going to go crazy with need. He was actually in pain, for God's sake. He had thought that her slap
would put an end to his desire for her body. But as soon as her feet had none too gently slammed against him, he had
responded to her closeness. He appreciated the strength in her thighs as she tightened them around his body, trying to hold
on. Her arms would have been choking most men, but his flexed neck muscles kept her from doing any harm.
He had been doing fine, climbing down the ladder, his mind on his footing and balance. Then her feet slid into his crotch,
gently brushing over him, and he forgot where he was, what he was doing, everything except what he was feeling. He
throbbed against his jeans, straining to be free. He couldn't stop the groan, could only manage to keep it low in his throat.
After telling her to hold still, he made record time climbing down the remaining ladder.
When they reached Rafe's speedboat, he gently pried her arms from around his neck. Angela took the hint and dropped her
legs to the deck. He turned around to look into her eyes, and she could see the renewed passion burning there. He put his
hands on her shoulders and pushed her down onto a seat in the middle of the boat.
"Hold on, this baby goes a lot faster than your little yacht."
As soon as he moved away from her, Angela was grabbed from behind, her breath knocked from her by affection. Ginny
and Charlotte were directly behind her on another bench seat. They both started talking at once, wanting to know what had
happened on the yacht after they left. Charlotte started wailing about almost being shark dinner. Ginny had a few choice
words for Blade, the nicest being that he should be shark food, but they'd probably have good enough taste to spit him out.
Angela was glad to see that they both seemed in good spirits.
Rat pried the grappling hook from the side of the yacht. When the hook pulled free, he placed it into a box at the side of the
cigarette boat, then took a seat in the front of the craft, just behind the windshield.
"We're unhooked and ready to go, boss. Everybody's called in, they're all loose."
With Rafe at the helm, the boat took off like a bat out of hell, throwing them all back against their seats. The sea spray shot
up and misted over them, making the ride pleasantly cool. The full moon shone on the water all around them, bringing each
wave to sparkling life.
After maybe two minutes of this speed, Rafe slowed the boat, shutting down the engine. He turned the bow so that it faced
the yacht, now some distance away, sitting forlornly in the water. He put his hand out and Rat placed a little box on his
palm. Rafe turned and smiled at his prisoners.
"Fireworks, just for you, ladies."
He pointed the box at the yacht, and pressed the button on its surface. They heard a muffled 'whoosh' and the yacht seemed
to explode right out of the water. Sparks, like fireworks, flew several hundred yards into the air. Even this far away, they
could feel the heat from the explosion. There were shouts of approval, and Angela realized that several other speedboats
were flanking them, engines off, their occupants enjoying the show.
Rafe yelled toward one of the boats.
"Ya think you used enough explosive, Chris? I wanted it blown, not launched."
A voice tinged with laughter shouted back, "Yeah, well, guess you got the bonus plan."
Hoots of laughter came from all around them. Rafe and Rat joined in. Angela, Ginny and Charlotte looked at each other, all
recognizing the line from the raunchy comedian's routine. Angela shrugged.
"Big surprise, they're Andrew 'Dice' Clay fans."
Rafe turned to them, smiled.
"Yeah, he's cool." He raised his voice. "Let's go."
The engines roared into life and they were off at breakneck speed.
As soon as they became used to the pressure such speed exerted on their bodies, the girls began to talk. They were pretty
sure the men couldn't hear them since they had to practically yell in each other's ears just to hear their own conversation.
Angela tried to give them an abridged version of what had happened on the yacht, but Charlotte wasn't buying it.
"Angie, you never could lie, even by omission. What really happened?"
Angela looked so confused that it worried her friends. It was not easy to confuse Angela. She usually looked at things from
as many sides as she could, then made up her mind.
"I'm not sure what happened."
Both of her friends had to lean closer to hear her as Angela tried to make sense of the incident on the yacht.
"I mean, I know what happened, physically. I just don't know why. I can't imagine what I was thinking. He's such a..," she
searched for a word that would fit, found one she liked. "Brigand. Yeah, that's perfect, he's such a brigand. Not the kind of
man I like at all. I like nice men."
She remembered his arms holding her safe, his lips caressing her.
"He can be so warm and gentle one minute, then cold and terrifying the next. I've never let a man I hadn't known for some
time kiss me. Why did I let him? And why did I not want him to stop?"
Hearing her own confused tone, Angela had to laugh at herself. Surely, she was making too much of this. In all of the
excitement, she had just lost her mind for a moment. It was no big deal, was it?
Angela looked at the vast expanse of ocean stretching to infinity. They had to find a way out of this. She remembered
Rafe's statement that he had plans for her. She had no intention of sitting around waiting for him to reveal his diabolical
layout of her life. It was her life and she was the one who had a plan. Or would have as soon as she thought of it.
As if she had read her mind, Charlotte asked, "Angie, do you have a plan?"
"I'm working on it. Ginny, do you think you could drive this thing?"
Ginny was the most mechanically inclined of the three. She drove a stick-shift, which, to her two friends, qualified her as a
master mechanic. She nodded.
"I've been watching him. I think I can handle it."
Ginny said the last with more confidence than she felt. She hoped they wouldn't notice.
Angela motioned them closer to her. She spoke as quietly as she could under the circumstances.
"All right. As soon as they get wherever it is they're taking us, we have to steal this boat."
At Charlotte's incredulous gasp, Angela frowned.
"Look, I don't know what they've got planned for us, and I don't particularly want to find out, do you?"
They looked like twin dolls as they shook their heads in unison.
"Okay. This is the plan. As soon as we stop, Charlotte will toss Rat overboard. He's not a very good swimmer, so we should
be able to get away before he even finds the boat, let alone swims back. I'll do the same to Rafe, but he's quick so we won't
have very long after he goes over. Ginny, you get to the controls and get this thing started as fast as you can."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"What if they follow us?" Charlotte chimed in fearfully.
Angela just hated it when the holes in her plans were pointed out. She knew this plan was riddled with them, but she didn't
want to address them just yet. She wanted to work up a little more confidence in her plan herself before trying to convince
someone else of its worth. But there wasn't enough time. Maybe there wasn't enough time in creation to make this plan fly,
she thought with a grimace.
"If they follow us, we'll drive as fast as we can and hope they run out of gas or we get somewhere that we can get help. We
go toward the nearest land. If we can't see land, then..."
A temporary snag in the plan. Angela perused the boat for an answer. Her eyes lit on what was obviously a radio on the
dashboard. She smiled, tilted her head toward the radio so that the others would follow her gaze.
"All we have to do is radio for help. I'll do that while Ginny drives like a madwoman. Shouldn't be too hard, huh?"
"Up yours, Kelly!"
They all laughed, their spirits buoyed by a plan of action that seemed sound, if a little spur of the moment. Ginny
surreptitiously watched Rafe as he drove the boat, hoping to glean as much knowledge of the craft as she could.
They began to slow down and Angela felt her stomach tighten and her throat constrict. She could tell by the looks on their
faces that her friends were feeling the same fear. She looked around to get her bearings. They were entering a small inlet on
what appeared to be a deserted island. A few hundred yards and the inlet opened into a cove, overhung with trees. A
wooden dock jutted from the black sand of the island into the water.
Rat stepped past them to get the stern docking rope. Angela knew they couldn't allow the boat to be secured to the dock or
their plan would be shot. She nodded to Charlotte, who looked like she might throw up any minute. Charlotte and Angela
stood, each moving toward their intended victim. Ginny stayed seated so as not to get in anyone's way.
Charlotte stepped close behind Rat. He felt her presence, turned to her and smiled. She suddenly felt like a Judas goat.
"You wanna help me...Hey!"
With a splash, Charlotte's shove sent Rat into the water.
When he heard his friend yell, Rafe turned to see what was happening. In one look he read the situation. The bitches were
actually trying to escape! With angry strides, he headed toward the stern. Angela stepped into his path. She put her hands
up, preparing to push him over the side, but his palm caught her sharply across the cheek, sending her sprawling on the seat
that she had just vacated.
Rafe wondered why the redhead didn't seem to be taking part in the jailbreak. She was still sitting where she'd been put like
a good little girl, so he paid her no mind as he headed to rescue his friend for the second time in one night.
What Rafe didn't realize was that seeing him hit Angela had temporarily frozen Ginny with pure rage. As he strode past,
Ginny flew at him, catching him under the jaw with her head, and punching him in the stomach with her fist. The air
rushed from his lungs and he stumbled sideways. Angela flung her foot into his path. With a sixth sense born of years of
defending himself, Rafe predicted her move, shifting his weight onto his other foot and narrowly escaping going over the
side.
Ginny would have gone after him to do more damage if a rock hard arm hadn't snaked around her waist, ramming the air
from her as she was lifted and transferred to another boat that had come alongside Rafe's. Blade held one of his namesakes
to her throat, his other hand boldly and painfully grasping her breast.
Rafe planted his feet wide apart, placing his fists on his hips, and pinned Angela to her seat with a baleful glare. His
nostrils flared with each indrawn breath as he contemplated his next move. He didn't think he had ever been quite this
angry with a woman. He wanted to kill her and her little friends. But that would be a waste, and Rafe was not a wasteful
man. He turned his malevolent gaze on the redhead in Blade's arms. Seeing how Blade held her, he figured he might get an
argument if he wanted to throw her to the fish. But she had hit him, and he wasn't about to let that go unpunished twice in
one day.
"Blade, she's yours. Hurt her, but don't kill her. Just get her out of my sight."
Blade smiled, a wicked leer, and tightened his hold on Ginny till she was certain her ribs were in jeopardy of cracking. He
whispered in her ear, "Payback time. Be nice or I'll slit your throat!" Then he tossed her to the deck of his boat and gunned
the engine.
"You got everything under control here, Rafe?"
"Yeah."
Rafe snarled the word.
Charlotte knew that their plan had decidedly not worked. Trying to mend some of the damage, she reached out her hand to
Rat, who had just reached the side of the boat. He cast her a dejected look, his long, medium brown hair covering his dark
brown eyes so that he looked like a bedraggled puppy. Cautiously, he took her outstretched hand. She pulled and he used
his other arm to push himself into the boat. When he was safely aboard, he looked at Charlotte as though she were already
in a coffin. He shook his head, spoke in a quiet voice.
"That was really dumb. Now he'll hurt somebody."
Charlotte didn't need to ask whom he meant. It was obvious who hurt people around here. She jumped a little when she felt
someone take her hand. Rat was smiling at her, a somewhat impish grin. He squeezed her hand, ran his eyes slowly from
her feet to her head, stopping at her eyes.
"If you let me do the talking, I think I can get you out of this."
She returned his smile. He was really kind-of cute, if you went for the scruffy type. Which, of course, she didn't. Still,
beggars couldn't be choosers, especially not when they were in deep trouble, as she was now. She gave him a little nod. Rat
pushed Charlotte behind him.
"Rafe?"
Rafe's head jerked up, his look none too friendly.
"What?"
"Can I have this one?"
Rafe sneered, "So we can spend tomorrow scouring the island for the bitch? I think not."
"Ah, come on, Rafe." Rat's tone was pleading, almost a whine. "I'll be real careful with her. I promise I won't let her get
away." He got a light bulb look. "If she gets away, you can take it out on me. Besides, there's no place for them to go even
if they do get away. But she won't. Okay?"
Rafe glared at his friend for a second, just so he'd know that he had given it some thought.
"Fine."
He took a step toward Rat, jabbing a finger in the direction of Rat's chest.
"But if the chick gets into any kind of trouble, I'll beat the hell out of you, then kill her! You got that?"
Rat swallowed hard, nodded once.
"Got it."

                          Chapter Four
                                
"Good. Take both of them up to the house. Lock that one," he pointed his thumb at Angela over his shoulder, "in my room.
Make 'em carry their own stuff, it'll fill their hands, and keep 'em out of trouble."
Angela studied the deck of the speedboat as she wondered what was going to happen to Ginny at the hands of that awful
pirate, Blade. Judging from the murderous glare Rafe had been giving her when Rat pulled his attention away, Angela
wondered if Ginny's fate might not be preferable to her own. She wasn't too worried about Charlotte. Rat seemed like a
nice guy. But, she thought with a worried frown, looks could be deceiving.
Angela gasped as her hair was grabbed from behind. She was dragged to her feet and forced to meet Rafe's glare, face to
face.
"If you bitches do anything," he tightened his hold on her hair, pulling it painfully, "and I mean anything that Rat doesn't
tell you to, if you give him any trouble at all, you'll pay. And if you have any stupid ideas left in that pretty little head of
yours about getting away, remember Blade has your friend. You might escape, though I doubt it, but she wouldn't. And I'm
the kinda guy to take things out on the one I still have. Do I make myself clear?"
Through the tears of pain gathering in her eyes, Angela glared right back at the arrogant pirate. She started to nod, then
thought better of it.
"Crystal! You're a cowardly bastard who wouldn't blink at using innocent victims to achieve your goals! And Ginny is now
the innocent that you will use to force me and Charlotte to bend to your will. Correct?"
As she spoke, his hold on her hair loosened. She tossed her head to free herself. She didn't realize how beautiful she looked
to him at that moment. Her eyes blazing ice blue, made even more icy by unshed tears. Her hair was blowing in the gentle
island breeze, flaring out from her face like the mane of a lion. When she tossed that mane, she reminded him of a wild
mare, defiantly declaring her independence. He could feel his anger transforming to furious desire.
"That's right, Angel." His voice was quiet, but still hard, unbending, like his will. As he spoke, it softened. "But don't worry,
honey, if you cooperate, like on the yacht, you'll like it."
Angela now knew the true meaning of outrage. She raised her hand to slap him but his flaming eyes stopped her. No, she
didn't think pushing him further would be a very good idea, no matter how good it might make her feel. She dropped her
hand with a mumbled, "Bastard!" and dropped her gaze back to the deck.
Satisfied that he had her rebelliousness quelled, temporarily at least, Rafe motioned for Rat to do his bidding, then realized
that the boat had drifted several feet from the dock. With a muttered curse, he started the engine and brought them close
enough to the dock that Rat could jump to it and secure the docking ropes.
Rafe stepped onto the dock, admonishing Rat to, "Watch 'em!" and headed off to where the other boats had already docked.
He wanted to put some space between himself and that little vixen before he lost control and really hurt her. Though he
admired her courage, and, he thought with a little grin, her temper, he was well aware of his own temper. He had been
known to lose it occasionally.
Rafe chuckled to himself. That was an understatement. He lost control of his temper with great regularity, hitting people
when they made him angry or disobeyed him, smashing things if he couldn't reach the object of his anger. Nobody who
knew him wanted to cross him.
His father, Michael Devane, had possessed the same temper. Rafe had the scars to prove it. As a kid, he had sworn that he
wouldn't be anything like his old man. He had held in his anger for years, seventeen to be exact, trying to be the dutiful son.
But all volcanoes erupt eventually, even those that have lain dormant for a long time.
Rafe perused the booty from the yacht laying on the dock. There wasn't much, mainly food. Hardly worth the fuel.
Remembering ice-blue eyes, smoldering with the heat caused by his kisses, a lazy smile spread slowly across his face.
Maybe this raid hadn't been a total loss.
He wondered what Rat had stowed away from the yacht, other than his Twinkies. His smile became affectionate. If there
were anything really interesting to be found, Rat would find it. Of course, sometimes the things that Rat found interesting
were beyond Rafe's comprehension. Like the time he took a child's wading pool from a freighter. Rafe had pointed out to
him that if he wanted to go wading, he had the whole ocean at his disposal. Rat had just smiled and said, "We might need it
sometime," and taken it home. The need had not arisen as yet.
Rafe spotted a bottle of scotch laying in the pile of booty. He picked it up, opened it and tossed back a healthy swallow.
Leaning back against the trunk of one of the trees that overhung the dock, he watched as his men secured the boats for the
night. He let his mind wander where it wanted since he knew from experience that it would anyway.
For most of his early life, Rafe had been let run wild. His father didn't care much what he did, just so Rafe was there for his
nightly lectures. Lectures about faithless wives, Rafe's mother being the prime example, money problems, the damn
government. Some nights, the lecture would end when Devane got tired, or, after a particularly bad day, too drunk to go on.
Rafe had gotten good at slipping out of the room unnoticed.
But some nights his father would accuse Rafe of not listening to him, ignoring him. Then his old man would fly into a rage,
hitting Rafe with his fists, his belt, anything that came within his grasp. Rafe had learned by the ripe old age of five that
running from his father only made him angrier. So when his father's temper reached the boiling point and the beating
began, Rafe would sit very still, detaching himself from his life. He would send his mind to a better place, a place where
little boys were so good that their fathers never beat them.
For most of his young life, Rafe had tried to be that good, believing that it was somehow his fault. But no matter what he
did, even telling his dad that he loved him, nothing stopped the pain. So Rafe became hardened to it, and by his teens, he
could pretty much ignore it.
When he turned five, his father brought a tutor, Mr. Bennett, to the island to live. Rafe had taken to school like a duck to
water. He'd been an excellent student, very inquisitive. He loved to read, to lose himself in the lives of others. Through
books, he had traveled to other lands, cured diseases, made love to beautiful, intelligent women. Fact or fiction, it didn't
matter. Bennett said Rafe was like a sponge soaking up every bit of knowledge in the vast sea of mankind, spitting out that
which he didn't agree with or like.
His schoolroom was the one place Rafe had been able to let go, to be himself without all the armor he had built around his
emotions. Mr. Bennett opened new doors for him, gave him new avenues of escape to explore. He was the only person that
Rafe ever let see his softer side, that part of him that wanted to be loved, to understand why loving wasn't enough.
The island Rafe had lived on all his life, Blacksands, had been in the Devane family for generations. When he was about
twelve, Rafe had become fascinated with pirates. He'd read all he could find about famous pirates, even some of the more
interesting pirate fiction.
Rafe knew that Blacksands was located near the West Indies where a lot of pirate activity had taken place, so he decided to
find evidence of pirates having sought refuge on his island. He set out exploring the caves along the beach. Sure enough, he
found old signs of human habitation. He even found the skeleton of what must have been one of the pirates, his red
bandanna still wrapped around his skull.
Rafe had formed a strong attachment to Mr. Bennett over the years. Unfortunately, his father had realized it. When Rafe
turned thirteen, his father said that Bennett was costing him too much money, that Rafe had learned enough. The night Mr.
Bennett left the island was the last time Rafe cried, except for one other.
Frowning, taking another long slug of the booze, Rafe remembered with great clarity the day his father had pushed him
over the line. It had been his seventeenth birthday. Devane had been working in Nassau all day, as usual. When he got
home that evening, he was already on his way to being drunk, a bad sign. Rafe had been instantly on guard, knowing that if
the old man had gotten drunk in the boat on the way home, something must really be eating at him.
Devane motioned for Rafe to follow him into his study. Once there, Devane sat on the edge of his desk and Rafe knew that
he was supposed to sit in the chair in front of him. Rafe took a deep breath and felt something stirring inside him that he
had held under tight control for a long time. Anger. It was his birthday. He didn't want to do this on his birthday. Rafe sat
and glared down at his boots.
"You know, boy, women are the scum of the earth," his father's words were slightly slurred. "That bitch is lying, I didn't
assault her. With her butt peekin' out 'o that tight skirt and her blouse open to her belly, she was askin' for it. Then she gets
all uppity when I take a little squeeze. Tells me she wouldn't touch me with...somethin'. So I slapped her, so what. Then she
calls the cops. Bitch! Didn't wanna do her anyway, the little..."
Devane drifted off into mumbling and Rafe thought tonight's speech finished. He started to get up to leave. A hand shot
out, catching him on the cheek with a loud 'smack'. He fell back to the chair.
"I'll tell you when you can leave, boy? You know, it's time you cut that hair o' yours, you look like a girl. You listenin' to
me, boy!"
Rafe had raised his head slowly and looked his father in the eye. If Devane hadn't been so drunk, he could have seen the
pain there, nestled safely inside the anger. As it was, all he saw was what he wanted to see, defiance, an excuse to loose his
temper on his son.
Devane grabbed the scissors from the pencil holder on his desk, stood and reached for a handful of Rafe's long, black hair.
"I guess I'll just have to do it myself."
Rafe's ebony hair was his pride and joy. The more it annoyed his father, the longer he'd let it grow. But an unexpected side
effect of his rebellion had been that he liked it. He liked how it felt on his neck and bare back. He combed his fingers
through it often, training it to fall over his face just so. It hid his eyes, and therefore his emotions, from the world. It was
one of the few pleasant things that his father hadn't taken away from him. Now, in a fit of rage, Devane intended to remedy
that.
Rafe pulled back as far as the chair would allow. It wasn't far enough. His father's hand closed around a piece of his hair
and pulled. Rafe sat perfectly still as the scissors came closer to his face, trying to send his mind into retreat. He couldn't do
it. Not this time.
Rafe stood, viciously shaking off his father's hold on his hair and knocking the older man off balance. Devane came back
up with his fist, sending Rafe to the floor, his lip bleeding. He kicked Rafe in the side, just to make sure the boy understood
who was boss here.
The pain of his breaking rib seemed to kickstart something dark, something animal, deep down inside Rafe that he didn't
have any control over. He howled like a wounded beast, jumping to his feet and grabbing his attacker by the throat. Devane
reacted slowly, but efficiently, jabbing the scissors into Rafe's side. Rafe backed up, the scissors dangling from his torn
shirt. He looked at them, pulled them from his flesh without a sound. The eyes he raised to Devane shone with animal-like
fury.
Seeing what he perceived as a lethal threat, Devane grabbed the letter opener from his desk. It was a wickedly sharp
dagger. He held it in front of him, advancing on Rafe in a deadly manner. Rafe held the scissors likewise, ready to defend
himself. Though the anger still raged inside Rafe, his mind was seeking a safe way out of this situation. He didn't want to
kill his father. He just wanted to have a happy birthday, like the song said.
Devane lunged suddenly, the blade aimed for the center of Rafe's chest. Rafe sidestepped just in time, his reflexes dulled by
pain and loss of blood. His father circled him, frustration and anger fueling his blood.
"You ungrateful little punk! I'm gonna kill you!"
Rafe gave his father a pleading look. A tiny bit of fear tinged the anger in Rafe's soul. Not fear that he would die, but fear
that he would kill the only person he had ever loved.
"Father, just get out of my way and let me out of here. I don't want to do this! Dad, please!"
He hadn't called Devane 'dad' since he was six years old. In doing so now, he was trying one last time to be a good son. One
last time to tell his father that he loved him.
But the old man was having none of it. He lunged again, his blade grazing Rafe's arm as Rafe tried to block. Something
inside Rafe's mind snapped and his survival instinct took over. Devane's weight carried them both to the floor, but Rafe's
reflexes were excellent. He rolled his father's weight off of him, jumping on top of Devane before he could get up.
Devane's arm was caught under Rafe's leg, the letter opener pinned in that hand. He punched Rafe in the mouth with his
other hand, trying to knock his son off balance and free the blade. Rafe screamed, truly the howl of the banshee for Devane,
and plunged the scissors into the older man's throat. He pulled them out, plunging them again and again into the corpse of
his father. The blood from Devane's torn throat sprayed across Rafe's face, mingling with the tears coursing down his
cheeks.
Though Devane was the one who lay dead, Rafe knew his father had murdered a part of him that night, killed his belief in
love, mercy, anything unselfishly good.
The coroner from Nassau had ruled the death self-defense. Rafe was declared a legal adult, allowed to take possession of
the island.
Faced with the reality of money, of funding his life and keeping his island, piracy had seemed the natural solution. Rafe
had searched Nassau for a few down-and-outers to crew his pirate ships, spent what was left of his father's life insurance
money to buy two cigarette boats, and set out to make his fortune.
It was easy for Rafe. Since his father's death, he had become totally ruthless. He didn't care about anything, other than his
crew. If someone needed killing, he killed them. If someone got in his way, he moved them, one way or the other.
Most of the pirate's attacks were put down to the mystery of the Bermuda triangle, but there were people who knew the
truth. Over the years Rafe's crew and speedboat armada had grown along with his reputation. Now he was well connected,
usually knew when something big that he might be interested in was going to move through his territory. And if things got
boring, as they had tonight, they would go hunting, laying in wait until something juicy came along.
Rafe's wicked smile shone white in the dark night. Tonight something juicy had definitely come along. And if he didn't stop
drinking, he thought with a grimace, he wasn't going to be able to properly enjoy his booty. He was pleasantly high now, his
muscles still responding well, but his anger completely gone. He nodded. It was safe to be near her now.
                          Chapter Five
                                
The house was something right out of 'Gone With the Wind'. It sat perched at the top of a hill, sprawling in majestic
splendor over the verdant turf of the island. The mansion was sparkling white, with giant pillars encircling its massive
frame, holding aloft the balcony of the upper level. Angela wondered at the beauty of it. It had obviously been well tended
over the years. And there had surely been many, as it gave the feeling of a structure that had withstood the ages.
After Rafe stalked away, Rat had handed Angela and Charlotte each a bag, not their own, but he didn't ask, and headed up a
well-worn path that led from the dock through the rich foliage to the mansion. As they rounded a bend in the path, the great
house seemed to suddenly appear before them, an alabaster dinosaur watching over the bay. Rat had turned to them,
smiling.
"It's great, huh?"
"Wonderful. Who did he rape and murder to get it?" Angela questioned contemptuously.
Rat instantly jumped to his friend's defense.
"Nobody. Rafe was born here. His family's been here forever."
He led them through the double entry doors which opened into a spacious foyer. Without bothering to close the doors, or
give a word of explanation, Rat continued on up a glorious staircase, the stairs covered in a rich, deep-red carpet. The
staircase and foyer were lit by an exquisite crystal chandelier that hung in the middle of the room. They half expected to
see Scarlet O'Hara descend at any minute.
The whole house spoke of a strong male presence. Angela knew to whom that presence belonged. She could feel him,
practically smell him. She shook her head, trying to shake such foolishness from her mind.
Rat led them to a door on the second floor of the mansion. He turned to Angela.
"This is Rafe's room."
Rat opened the door, flipped the light switch and stepped back to allow her entry. He closed the door without a word.
Angela heard Charlotte's voice, although she couldn't make out specific words. The door was reopened, and with a sheepish
grin, Rat handed her the bag Charlotte had been carrying and took Charlotte's bag from Angela. He shrugged and left.
Angela heard the click as the lock was secured.
Angela had noticed that Rat had been carrying Ginny's bag and she wondered if he would see that Ginny got it. Feeling very
alone and forsaken, she wondered forlornly if she would ever see either of her friends again. Angela gave her head a violent
shake to rid it of those negative thoughts. She would see them again, she would find a way.
Angela surveyed her current surroundings. Everything about the room reeked of man. The same deep-red carpet spread
across the floor like a giant stain of blood. Although sparse, the furnishings were in excellent taste. A large bed regally
dominated the room, its dark ebony polished to a blinding luster, its spread the blackest velvet. It was centered in front of
french doors that Angela assumed led to the balcony. The double glass doors were covered by red lace sheers and black
velvet curtains hung at their sides. Matching ebony pieces lined the walls: dresser, armoire, several bookshelves, full to
overflowing.
Behind the door stood a display case of the same dark wood containing every kind of hand weapon that Angela could
imagine. Everything from modern pistols, rifles, shotguns and automatic weapons to muskets, antique handguns and
swords had been placed inside the cabinet in somewhat haphazard fashion.
The front of the case was glass and Angela considered breaking it, taking a weapon, and making another attempt to free
them. Not yet, she thought. Her last plan had gotten them separated and possibly into deeper trouble, if that were possible.
She vowed she would think her next plan through completely before putting it into action.
Angela dropped her bag on the floor, noting that the only place to sit was on the bed. 'That figures', she thought, 'the center
of a man's universe.' She perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, happy to discover that the mattress was quite firm, just
the way she liked it. She flung her arms out to her sides like wings and fell back onto the bed with a loud sigh.
Lying thus, staring at the ceiling, Angela felt despondency overtake her. They were in real trouble. She didn't know where
her friends had been taken, didn't even know what island they were all on, if indeed this were an island. She knew Ginny
and Charlotte would be counting on her to come up with a plan to get them out of this mess. Angela narrowed her eyes
with determination. She did not intend to let them down.
She wondered what was happening to her friends at this moment. Remembering the look in Blade's eye when last she'd
seen him made Angela's stomach clench in sympathy for Ginny. Tears began to form in her eyes as sobs wrenched
themselves free of her throat. She tried desperately to stop them, but it was no use. Angela turned her head into the black
velvet bedspread and let her emotions run free.
She was so worried, so scared, so tired. Angela never knew when conscious thought left her, to be replaced by dreams.
Dreams of pirates and sharks. And blazing chocolate eyes.

Rafe walked into his bedroom, fully expecting to be greeted by some object flying at his head with lethal intent. He was
tensed for battle, his muscles ready to throw him from the path of injury. The sight that greeted him so surprised him that
he took a step back, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself.
Angela was lying on his bed. Her white sundress had ridden up in her sleep, revealing most of her shapely legs to his view.
The bodice had slipped down to expose the crest of one dark pink nipple. He remembered with a flush of warmth to his
lower body what the skin there felt like. Her glorious mane of blonde hair was spread out over the onyx velvet of his
bedspread like a golden silk scarf. God, she was beautiful! Her face was turned toward her right hand, which was almost
touching her lips, the other arm flung out to her side. Several strands of hair stuck to her face. Unaware of his intent, Rafe
stepped forward and brushed them away, leaving her face completely bare.
He could tell by the light residue of makeup staining her cheeks, and his bedspread, he noted with an amused grimace, that
she had been crying. He didn't know why that bothered him. He sharply shook his head in annoyance. Why should he care
if she had cried herself to sleep? Dammit, he did not like asking himself questions, especially if the answers didn't come
quickly to mind. And where this blonde beauty was concerned, answers were very slow in coming.
Rafe wondered if he could remove her clothes without her awakening. Driven by the pulsing in his loins, he decided to give
it a try. Crouching at the foot of the bed, he grasped the hem of her sundress and began gently pulling, his breath
quickening as each new inch of skin was revealed. When her breasts were both bared to his gaze, Rafe had to stand and
step away from the bed to slow his breathing. He stared down at the half-naked vision lying on his bed. She looked so
innocent. Rafe's lip pulled up on one side, a snarl of contempt. In a hard whisper he said, "All innocence gets you is hurt,
girl!"
Angela stirred a little at his words, whimpering at the disturbance of her sleep. Rafe tensed, his gut tightening at the
vulnerable sound. She quieted and he crouched again, resuming his mission of undressing her. The smooth cotton slid
easily over her trim waist, caught slightly on the gentle curve of her hips, then poured off of her legs and into his hands.
Now all she wore was white bikini panties of the most sheer lace Rafe had ever seen.
His crouched position was making Rafe very uncomfortable, his aching body wanting to be free of all restrictions. But he
wanted to finish this first, to see her in all her beauty. He carefully slid his fingers under the lace at the sides of her hips and
pulled. The lace came away smoothly to reveal a triangle of dark blonde hair covering her most precious treasure.
Rafe straightened to get a better look at her, and to allow his body a little peace. He feasted his eyes on her lovely body,
revealed in all its splendor before him. He passed her panties under his nose, inhaling her unique fragrance. Though he had
thought it impossible, he felt himself grow even harder as he enjoyed her body's perfume.
He tossed the panties atop her dress on the floor and began quietly undressing. He had to do a rather ungraceful dance to
remove his boots, but he didn't want to sit on the bed and chance waking her. Unzipping his pants, he gave a sigh of relief
as that pulsing muscle was freed. Reaching up and behind his back, he fisted his shirt over his head. He ran his hand
through the hair that had fallen over his forehead, pushing it back from his face.
Rafe drank in her beauty like a dying man in the desert. Her legs were slightly parted, one knee turned a bit sideways. He
leaned forward and lightly brushed her golden triangle with his long, slim fingers. The hair felt just like the silk scarves he
used to control his hair on a raid. With the tip of his index finger, he traced the line of her woman's lips. She sighed and
spread her legs a little farther, parting those lips invitingly. Rafe's breath refused to leave his lungs for several seconds, then
did so in a rush, a moan escaping his lips. He pressed his attack, his finger sliding into her moist center, finding the
blossoming bud that he sought. He stroked her gently, trying to breath deeply, to maintain his control. Angela's breathing
was growing rapid, little moans tantalizing his ears.
Rafe knelt at the foot of the bed. He put his free hand against her thigh and gently pushed. She obligingly opened herself to
him. Slowly, still stroking her tiny bud, he slid the middle finger of his other hand into her welcoming body. She arched,
causing him to enter her a bit faster than he had planned. She made a small sound of pain as his finger brushed something
he had never felt before. A flimsy piece of skin partially blocked his way. Rafe looked up at the beauty above him, true
amazement showing in his eyes as he comprehended the reality of what he was feeling. 
His angel was a virgin.
He pulled his hands from her as though he had been burned. Running his fingers through his hair, Rafe turned from her to
think. On the black market, a pale blonde virgin was worth a king's ransom. With the sale of this beautiful innocent, he
could cover the costs of his island home for a year, maybe two. Handled right, it might even make him some new contacts.
The circumstances demanded that he leave the room right now to start negotiations.
Rafe turned back and looked down at Angela. One look at her glorious body, a body he knew was hot and ready for him,
sent all thought of profit from his mind. He could no more give her away than plunge a knife into his own guts. She was
his. And he was going to stake his claim tonight.
He carefully laid down beside her on the velvet spread. She shifted a little in her sleep, but didn't awaken. Rafe ran his
fingertip over her bottom lip. She smiled slightly and snuggled closer to his body. He laid his hand over her creamy breast,
gently massaging the firm mound. Her nipple jutted hard against his palm. He took it between his thumb and forefinger,
coaxing it to greater erection. She moaned softly, arching to meet his caress. He leaned over her body and ran his tongue
over the tender flesh of her other nipple. Her loud sigh drove him wild and he thought he might lose control right then.
With a deep frown, Rafe realized that he was going to have to hurt her. Breaking that piece of flesh he had felt earlier was
painful, or so he'd heard. He needed to prepare her. He wanted her very high, very wet before he took her. He reasoned that
the more ready she was, the less it would hurt.
He sucked on her nipple, then slid his lips down to take most of her breast into his mouth. She rolled slightly to her side to
allow him better access. As he suckled her breast, he slid his hand down her silky body to the junction of her thighs, his
finger finding and stroking her hard nub of ecstasy.
In her dream, Angela was being caressed by the handsome pirate who had starred in her nightmares just moments before.
She told him that she wanted him to stop, but they both knew she was lying. She didn't want him to stop, she wanted him to
take her, to make her a woman. She had waited so long, thinking that she would find a man with whom she would feel safe
enough to let go of her control. She didn't feel safe with this pirate, did she? He was certainly fierce enough to protect her
from the world. But who would protect her from him?
As the pressure began to build, Angela didn't care anymore, she just wanted him to keep working his magic on her body.
She arched, moaned, reaching for a fulfillment that she didn't understand, had never known.
Rafe couldn't take any more. He rolled onto Angela's body, keeping his weight on his elbows. She frowned a little,
confusion evident in her face. He sensed that she was close to waking. He didn't want her to wake up and tell him to stop.
For some reason, he didn't want to rape her. He wanted her arching up to him, as she was now, inviting him to plunder her
beautiful body.
Rafe shifted to one arm, pulled her leg up almost to her chest, and positioned himself to claim her. With a deep breath, he
gave a strong thrust, driving deeply into her body, feeling the protective membrane tear as she cried out in pain.
Angela's eyes flew open, total consciousness returning in a rush as her body was irrevocably invaded. She pressed her
hands against the pirate's chest, trying to push him away from her. Tears of pain pouring down her cheeks, she put her feet
flat on the bed and tried to use her legs as leverage. That only caused the pain to increase. She choked as the pain and anger
threatened to overwhelm her.
Rafe knew the minute Angela came fully awake. Her muscles tensed, squeezing and pulling him deeper inside her body
even as she tried to push him away. Her sobs cut him to the core. He had never before felt the need to comfort a woman, so
he felt very inadequate for the task. When she dropped her leg, he saw the added pain join with the fear in her eyes. He slid
his hands underneath her back, pulling her tightly against his chest, and spoke very softly into her ear.
"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. Put your legs around me, it won't hurt so much."
In a small, hurt voice she said, "If you'd get out of me, it wouldn't hurt at all."
His body was screaming for release, the muscles in his back and legs straining with his effort to keep still. He raised his
head to smile down at her. His eyes were smoldering with the flames of passion. She turned her face away, wouldn't look at
him.
"I can't do that, honey."
Angela turned back and glared up at him.
"You mean you won't!"
"No, I mean I can't. Just holding still like this is agony. If I tried to leave you now, I honestly think I might die. God, you are
so tight! Every time you move, you stroke me."
His voice was becoming a growl, his neck muscles bulging. He was breathing as though he had just run a mile. He began
slowly moving his body on hers, but the pace quickened in seconds.
"I'm losin' it, baby. Keep your legs up. Don't think, just feel. Oh, Angel, just feel it."
Angela did as he instructed, wrapping her legs around his hips. It did lessen the pain. Since she couldn't get him off of her,
and it was going to happen anyway, Angela decided to do her best to enjoy it. She relaxed as much as she could and tried to
concentrate on his body. He pulled his head up, looked into her eyes. Then his lips came down on hers in a deep kiss, his
tongue sliding into her mouth, even as he was sliding deeper into her body. She liked the way his mouth felt, the way his
arms were wrapped so tightly around her, keeping her safe.
Angela remembered the way he had looked the first time she ever saw him. Fierce, proud, arrogant, he had been the very
picture of masculine perfection. And now he was making love to her. She was holding that wonderful specimen of
manhood in her arms.
Something began to happen inside Angela's body. Tiny ripples of feeling were beginning to grow into waves. She wrapped
her arms around Rafe's back, digging her fingers into the moist skin and rock-hard muscle. He pulled back from her lips,
looked so deeply into her eyes that she swore she felt him touch her soul.
"Climb with me, Angel. All the way. Trust me, baby. I won't let you fall."
The speed of his thrusts increased as he spoke to her. Angela's pulse was keeping pace, pounding in her ears until she
thought her head might explode. Rafe slid one hand between them. She knew he was off balance now, that she could
probably push him off of her body. But she didn't want to anymore. Somehow, somewhere along the way, this encounter
had changed from rape to seduction.
When Rafe's finger found what it sought and began stroking, the feeling was so intense that it scared her. She tightened her
hold on him. Sweat dripped from the ends of his hair, the drops cooling her body where they fell. His eyes were on fire
now, his face taking on an almost maniacal cast. He spoke to her in a loud, but strangely comforting, voice.
"Don't be afraid, give in to it. Let go, Angel, let go now!"
Angela held her breath as the thrusting of Rafe's body set off an explosion of feeling inside her, sending shock waves
throughout her body. Rafe threw his head back, sending his sweat-soaked hair flying, and yelled as hot fluid flowed from
his body into hers. She closed her eyes and tiny sparks of light flashed behind her eyelids. Suddenly, she was screaming his
name, completely out of control, but she didn't care. She just wanted this glorious sensation to continue, to last forever. The
waves reached to her fingers and toes, causing every muscle in her body to spasm repeatedly. As the spasms slowed,
tension drained from her body to be replaced by the most wonderful feeling of contentment she had ever known.
Angela felt Rafe's weight settle on her as his body relaxed. With his arms wrapped around her and his muscular body
spread protectively over her own, she felt safer, more at ease than she had ever felt in her entire life. She listened as his
breathing slowed to the even pace of sleep. His head rested on her shoulder, and as he fell asleep he turned his face toward
her.
Angela studied the lines and curves of Rafe's face. His forehead was fairly wide, stopping just short of Neanderthal. From
high cheekbones, his jaw jutted triangularly to a squared chin with a deep dimple at the center. His eyebrows were thick
and dark, nearly joining at the bridge of his nose. With his eyes closed as they were now, his long, black lashes lay upon his
cheeks. His nose was straight and small, with a slight indentation in the center. His mouth, relaxed now in sleep, was an
almost perfect Cupid's bow, his lips slightly thin, but very sensuous.
The most unusual facet of Rafe's looks was his long sideburns. He wore them to just below his ear, flaring slightly at the
bottom, a little like Elvis Presley. They helped give his almost feminine face a definitely masculine air. Without the
sideburns, Angela might have called him beautiful. With them, he became handsome.
He wore his coal-black hair rebelliously long. Parted on the side, its full length fell below his shoulders in slight waves.
The front had been cut into bangs at some time, although they had been allowed to grow quite long so that normally they
fell over one eye in a graceful wave. Now they were sweat-slicked back from his face, baring his innocent, relaxed visage
to Angela's gaze. She was surprised at the vulnerability she now saw in that normally hard face. And disturbed by the
protective urge it brought to her heart.
Angela closed her eyes and pictured Rafe coming over the yacht's rail. He stood a couple of inches taller than she, very
broad at the shoulder, with slim hips. He wore his black jeans tight enough to show the hard muscles of his thighs and butt.
His upper arms were weight-lifter muscled, tapering from his elbows to almost small wrists. His hands were those of a
concert pianist, with long, finely-boned fingers. She smiled, remembering the sensations those fingers had so recently given
her.
"What's the smile for?"
Angela jumped and opened her eyes. Rafe was lying just as he had been before, only now his eyes were open. His voice
was soft and warm, his words so lazy they were almost drawled. He hadn't yet pulled his cloak of cynicism over his
features. His eyes were a clear, bright sherry, his smile so soft and genuine it tugged at her heart. She returned his smile,
ran her fingers lightly down his back.
"I was just thinking about you. Wondering what you were like before you became a pirate."
She could almost hear the slam as the protective armor closed over Rafe's emotions. His eyes darkened, his eyebrows
pulling even closer together in a frown. The line of his lips thinned as he rolled from her to lie on his back, his arms under
his head, and stare at the ceiling. His voice had returned to wary coldness.
"I've always been a pirate."
Angela didn't believe that, but she decided to try a slightly different tactic in trying to get him to talk about himself. She
leaned on her elbow, ran her fingertip lightly over the smooth black hair liberally covering his chest.
"What did you want to be when you were a kid?"
His smile slightly wistful, his answer was barely a sigh.
"Happy."
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her head to rest on his chest. She snuggled slightly and Rafe smiled, though
she couldn't see it. His tone lightened, becoming almost playful.
"What did the young Michael Rafael Devane want to be when he grew up? Let's see. I wanted to be a doctor, lawyer, great
white hunter, even a writer."
He laughed, the amusement rumbling through his chest the sweetest music to Angela's ears.
"I never did anything halfway. If I was gonna be a doctor, I was gonna discover the cure for cancer and get the Nobel Peace
Prize. A hunter - I was gonna be the first person to hunt game on another planet. Always something really spectacular."
He shrugged, his chest hair tickling Angela's nose. She lifted her head, rubbed her hand across his chest to smooth it. When
her hand brushed his nipple, she felt his chest muscles tense slightly under her fingers. Smiling, she laid her head back
down and asked, "Why didn't you become any of those things?"
"Reality. When my father died," his voice hardened, "I had to get enough money to keep this place. I was seventeen years
old, didn't even have a high school diploma. It quickly became apparent that there wasn't a legal way available. It was
either lose my home or find a way to keep it. I kept it."
He sighed and brushed his hand over her bare arm, sending goose bumps down her spine.
"What about you, Angel, what did you want to be?"
"When I was a kid what I wanted more than anything was to be a wife, and maybe even a mother someday. Oh, I had the
usual fantasies, I guess. A movie star, a model, beautiful, rich. I settled for intelligent. I went to college and got a degree in
office management. So now I'm a glorified secretary with a fancy title. It's a long way from a movie star."
Now it was Angela's turn to shrug. She raised her head to look at his face.
"I guess things don't work out like we dream very often, huh?"
He looked into her eyes and saw the sadness there. His eyes darkened as he tightened his arm around her.
"Sure they do, sweetheart. I dreamed about makin' it with you, and here we are. What say we do a little more dreamin'?"
He rolled, pushing Angela onto her back and putting his body half over her, his heavily muscled thigh pinning her legs. But
Angela was in a talking mood. There was so much she wanted to know about this man. Feeling a familiar tingling begin in
her lower body, she reconsidered her mood, raising her arms to encircle Rafe's neck. There would be plenty of time for
them to talk later.
Guilt thrust its way into Angela's mind as she remembered Charlotte and Ginny, suffering some unknown fate at the hands
of Rafe's men, while she was enjoying herself. She put her hands against Rafe's chest and pushed. He raised his head from
his intent of kissing her and arched an eyebrow in question.
"Rafe, where are Char and Ginny? What's happening to them?"
Rafe assumed a lazy, mellow expression, smiling down at her. He drawled, "About the same thing that's happenin' to you,
darlin'."
He leaned over her and kissed her eyelids, his hand running over her breast. Angela shivered, her concern for her friends
temporarily allayed, as his tongue plunged into her mouth and his hand began leading her to that summit she had only
begun to explore.
                          Chapter Six
                                
Had Angela known the complete truth about what was happening to her friends, she would not have been so easily
placated. Although Charlotte could get along with almost anyone, anyone who could put up with her incessant talking, that
is, Ginny was not as agreeable. If she felt pushed, she tended to put up a fight. As is usually the case, personality seals fate.
Blade had roughly pulled Ginny from the cigarette boat, nearly wrenching her arm from the socket when she dared to balk,
and dragged her up the path to the big house. She didn't pay much attention to her surroundings. She was too busy watching
for an opportunity to kill this rotten man! Fortunately for him, none had presented itself as yet.
As Blade pulled her along behind him, paying her no attention whatsoever, Ginny noticed that he was a veritable walking
arsenal. He wore a Mac 10 slung around his neck as Rafe had done, but Blade also had several knives strategically placed
on his person. Handles peeked from the top of each boot, two small daggers nestled in sheaths behind his back at the waist,
and a very large hunting knife, the one Angie had held for a brief moment, was stuck down the front of his pants.
Since she could do no more than struggle to keep up with him if she wanted to remain attached to her arm, Ginny put her
mind on studying the pirate. Hopefully, she could find a weakness, some flaw that might help them in the future. Besides,
he was drop-dead gorgeous. In a villain sort-of way, of course.
He was several inches taller than she, with straight black hair that fell almost to his waist. No, not black. As he passed a
place where the vegetation was sparse, a ray of moonlight sparked bursts of red in his hair. Darkest brown was a more apt
description. He wore no shirt, his muscular chest bare of all but the finest covering of smooth hair. His jeans were black,
topped by a wide black leather belt with a wicked looking silver skull-and-crossbones buckle. He strutted like a king in his
black over-the-knee pirate boots, his long strides carrying them along at a swift pace that Ginny was hard pressed to match.
The path was rocky in places, a fact that Ginny discovered the hard way by turning her ankle on one of the sharp stones.
She gave a small scream as the ground rushed up at her and she was certain that she would have to bid her arm adieu.
Blade felt the shift in her stride as she stepped on the rock. He released her arm, spun around and, dropping to one knee,
caught her before she hit the ground. He quickly lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his hard body. Mumbling
"clumsy bitch", he continued on up the path.
Ginny glared up at him, wanting to make some sarcastic remark about his gentlemanly manners, but none came to mind.
She was much too aware of her position, of how easily he had swung her weight into his arms, his muscles showing hardly
any strain at all. He must have felt her staring at him, because he looked down at her.
Ginny found herself gazing into the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. They were silver-grey, like the fur of a wolf. A
fringe of long, dark lashes framed them to perfection. He wore a slight, well-trimmed beard and mustache in the Satanic
fashion, the sides of his jaw bare. He grinned at her and his teeth flashed white in the darkness. Ginny decided that 'Satanic'
was a good word to apply to this pirate. With a flip of his head he sent his hair behind his shoulders, so she could more
clearly see his face.
Arriving at the house, Blade entered through the doors that Rat had left open, and headed for the stairs. Being carried like
an infant was beginning to get on Ginny's nerves. She shifted in his arms to regain his attention.
"I can walk."
He ignored her, striding on as though she hadn't spoken. Ginny slapped his shoulder.
"Hey, is anybody home in there? I said I can walk!"
His eyes flashed fire when she hit him, causing her to wonder at the advisability of angering him. He leaned slightly
forward and dropped her on the hard floor, then stepped back from her and pointed up the stairs.
"Then get your ass up there."
His voice was strained, as though he were trying not to yell. Ginny stood and faced him, happy to note that her ankle didn't
hurt. She tossed her mass of curly red hair back and glared up at him.
"I don't take your orders."
In the blink of an eye his knife was at her throat, the sharp tip speaking quite eloquently of the lethal possibilities. He
stepped close to her, his breath fanning her warm cheeks as he spoke.
"You take anything I tell you to, baby, or we start a little surgery. After that stunt you pulled back on the yacht, I'm not real
happy with you."
Ginny realized that she had risen to her toes to avoid the point of the knife. Blade slid it back into its sheath at his back. He
stepped around her and started up the stairs. Ginny looked at the open doors and contemplated her next move.
"If you want to try for the door, go ahead. I could use the throwing practice."
Ginny's mouth dropped open as she turned her wide-eyed gaze toward him. Then she slitted her eyes, giving him what she
hoped was a soul-searing glare.
"You would, too, wouldn't you? You low-life, you'd stick a knife in someone's back as easily as their front. You..."
He interrupted her in a bored voice.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a horrible bastard who eats kittens for dinner. Now, come on."
He crooked his finger at her, indicating that she should come to him. Ginny had no doubt whatsoever that he would put one
of those knives into her back. Whether or not he could, or would, throw them she wasn't willing to put to the test with her
life at stake. She climbed the stairs slowly behind him. When she reached the top, he swept her into his arms again. She
gasped and yelled at him in outrage.
"Put me down!"
"No."
Before Ginny could get her anger under control enough to make an appropriately scathing reply, the pirate had entered a
room and kicked the door shut behind them. In total blackness, he crossed the room and dropped her. Ginny screamed,
thinking she was going to land on her bruised behind again. Instead, she found herself on a bed. She didn't dare move since
she couldn't see anything. She could sense him standing close by. His voice came softly from the darkness.
"Get your clothes off."
"What?!"
"Look, you can take 'em off, or I'll cut 'em off. It don't matter to me."
Fear was wrapping tendrils around her throat, threatening to suffocate her. This couldn't be happening to her. Rape was
something that happened on the news or in the movies, not to normal, everyday women like herself. Ginny swallowed, fear
making her mouth dry, and tried to summon some righteous anger. Her voice was nowhere near as strong as she wished it
were.
"What are you going to do to me?"
He had been moving about. She felt the bed shift as he knelt on it. She backed up, putting her in a shaft of moonlight. He
leaned close so that she could see his face. When he saw her fear, his eyes softened a degree.
"I don't wanna hurt you, baby. If you behave, I won't have to."
Ginny wasn't sure if it was his words or his humoring tone that did it, but something sparked the anger inside her like
dynamite. She turned away from him and jumped off the bed. She immediately collided with something, sending it
toppling to the floor with a loud crash. She was temporarily blinded as the lights sprang to life in the room. She looked at
the ground and saw that she had knocked over the chair on which Blade had thrown his clothes. His hunting knife lay on
top of the discarded pile. She grabbed it, pulling it in front of her just in time to stop his charge toward her.
Blade cursed himself for thinking he had the girl so terrified that she wouldn't try anything. He could just see Rafe's face if
he found out that a woman had taken Blade's knife twice in one night. He'd never live it down!
Blade inhaled deeply, letting his body relax. With his knees slightly bent and his arms held loosely in front of him, palms
up, Blade wiggled the fingers of both hands, calling her on.
"Ok, baby, you wanna fight, come on."
Ginny waved the knife belligerently in front of her body, trying to get him to move to the side so that she could run for the
door. She noticed with a start that he had nothing on. Her surprise was her undoing. He leaped at her, knocking the knife
from her hand, and pushed her down onto the bed. Before she could do more than catch her breath, he was on top of her,
his knees straddling her hips.
With a remarkably effortless tug, Blade tore her halter top in two, freeing her breasts. She balled her hand into a fist and
punched him in the jaw, instantly deciding that no reward was worth the pain in her hand. His face turned to the side with
the impact, then snapped back, his hair flying, as he leaned one hand painfully in the center of her chest and pulled back his
fist. Ginny stared in horror at that fist, his arm muscles bulging behind it. She was certain that blow, if delivered, would end
her life.
Blade held his position, sucking in deep breaths through clenched teeth, his lips pulled back in a snarl of rage. He couldn't
believe this bitch! In one night she'd bitten him, pulled a knife on him and punched him! He would've killed a man for any
one of those offenses. He should break her damn jaw!
Trying to clear the anger from his head, Blade took a good look at the woman pinned beneath him. Frozen in fear, she was
flat on her back, her arms flung over her head, her bare breasts rising and falling with each shallow, frightened breath. Her
red hair, fanned out around her head in total disarray, reminded him of a bullfighter's cape. Her complexion was redhead
pale, her cheeks becomingly flushed with anger.
The fight had begun to stir Blade's blood, and the sight of her finished the job. His anger fled his mind and rushed through
his blood to his crotch, filling him, making him hard and ready.
Ginny closed her eyes as his fist descended, thinking it might hurt less if she didn't see it coming. Hands of steel closed
around her wrists and hot, punishing lips met hers. He had meant for the kiss to bruise, to hurt. But her surprise kept
Ginny's lips soft beneath his own. They parted easily for his tongue, and Blade quickly lost interest in any battle of wills.
In all her life, Ginny had never been as scared as she was seeing that fist coming at her. When the expected pain didn't
come, and unexpected pleasure did, she was confused by her feelings. She wasn't going to die. How dare he scare her like
that!
Anger and relief combined to fuel her passion. Blade's lips were so warm, so skillful, coaxing an unwilling response from
Ginny. He straightened his legs and they fell naturally between hers. As his hard body moved on hers, rubbing her most
sensitive spots, her response became willing, and eager.
Blade tentatively released her wrists, running his fingertips down the sensitive underside of her arms. Ginny wove her
fingers into his wonderful hair, pulling him closer. He slid his tongue into her mouth, then withdrew it and ran it over her
lips. His hard, moist chest pressed against her breasts and she thought she might faint, the sensation was so intense. As his
passion took hold, his lips slashed across hers more roughly, almost, but not quite, painfully. She responded in kind, pulling
his hair, running her short nails down his back.
They were both breathing with difficulty when Blade suddenly raised himself up and shifted to kneel between her legs. He
looked down at her still partially clothed body in frustration, reached to the floor and came back up with a knife in his
hand. Ginny tensed, but he was too involved in his task to notice. He slid the knife smoothly into the waistband of her
shorts, then turned the blade and deftly cut them from her, one leg at a time. He pulled them from beneath her and tossed
them and the knife to the floor.
Blade put his palms on her thighs, pushing till he felt resistance. He leaned over and, using his hands to spread her wide,
kissed her exposed flesh. Ginny arched with the almost unbearable pleasure. When he stroked her with his tongue, she
cried out, digging her hands more deeply into his hair. He continued the sweet torture, darting his tongue into her, then
stroking her until she was nearly hysterical. She pulled his hair, trying to bring him to her.
When he could wait no longer, Blade straightened, placing his hands under her knees and pushing them to her chest. She
was so wet, he slid into her easily, her body closing tightly around him. He was so close to the top that he had no time for
slow thrusts. It didn't matter. Within seconds of entering her welcoming body, he felt her spasms beginning.
Blade looked down at Ginny, the sight of her in ecstasy driving him over the edge. His last conscious thought before reason
left him was how beautiful she looked with her head thrown back, lips wide in a silent scream. Then feeling overtook him,
his senses alive as he exploded inside her body, his pumped up muscles spasming to send his seed deeply into her.
Blade collapsed sideways, pulling Ginny onto her side facing him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, and he threw
one leg over her thighs. Then he fell into a deep, relaxed sleep.
Ginny wanted to think, to reason out what had just happened to her. She'd had boyfriends, or at least guys she'd had sex
with. She'd even thought she might be in love once or twice. But it had never worked out. Men either didn't like her
independence, or they wanted a mother-figure, which she didn't wish to be.
She had found sex to be ok, if nothing to write home about. It was usually necessary to keep guys around long enough to
decide to dump them. But it had never been like this. What had just happened between herself and this pirate had definitely
been better than just ok. She felt as weak and content as a kitten after a bowl of warm milk. This time had been so
different. Why?
Ginny tried to convince herself that it had been the fear, maybe even the violence, that had caused her to respond with such
abandon. Perhaps it had been the inevitability of the situation. Maybe she had had too much to drink at dinner. Ginny shook
her head, remembering that they hadn't had any liquor with dinner. What, then?
As her eyes grew too heavy to keep them open any longer, Ginny pictured Blade above her. Her half-asleep mind told the
truth that she wouldn't accept when fully conscious- This time had been different because this man was different.
                         Chapter Seven
                                
As Charlotte trailed along behind Rat she wondered, as Angie had, what was going to happen to them. She looked around
as they walked, admiring the rich furnishings. Whoever had decorated this place - she did not believe for one minute that it
had been that awful pirate, Rafe! - had good taste. Though many different styles had been combined, the common thread of
dark wood and deep colors brought it all together.
Charlotte was so absorbed in her surroundings she didn't notice Rat had stopped until she ran into his back. She stumbled
backward and, blushing furiously, apologized.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going. This house is really beautiful. Who was the decorator? I'm certain it was a
woman, even though the basic feeling is masculine. I bet that was the feel she was going for, wasn't it?" 
Charlotte realized she was rambling. That was something she did when she was nervous, it helped to keep her mind off of
things. And right now, as this scruffy man was showing her into what was obviously a bedroom, she was very nervous.
Rat closed the door behind them and Charlotte heard the click of the lock. She swallowed hard and looked around for
conversation fodder. What she saw fascinated her. If not for the bed in the middle, this room could easily be mistaken for a
storeroom. Her mouth dropped open as she turned and surveyed the chaos. There were shelves from floor to ceiling on all
four walls, even covering the french doors that let to the terrace. The only break was for the entry door.
Rat's shelves were piled with all kinds of assorted junk. In one quick glance, Charlotte could see a beach ball, snorkeling
gear, several handguns, and a box of Hostess Ding Dongs. Lost in her awed perusal of his room, it took Charlotte a minute
to realize Rat was speaking to her.
"...all of the decorating. Except in here. This is my place."
Rat said the last with such pride that Charlotte didn't have the heart to tell him she thought the place looked like it had been
'decorated' in 'Early American Chaos'. She turned to see him put the two bags he carried onto one of the shelves. Tilting his
head from side to side, he contemplated the placement of the bags. Shaking his head, he moved them to the shelf above,
then nodded.
"So what's your name?"
As he spoke, Rat moved about the room, unloading the deep cargo pockets of his pants onto various shelves, most of which
already seemed full to overflowing. Realizing she hadn't answered his question, Rat glanced over his shoulder at Charlotte,
then turned away, blushing.
"I collect stuff. It may not look like it, but it's all good stuff. That's why Rafe named me Packrat. Everybody just calls me
Rat."
"Charlotte James. My friends call me Char."
She extended her hand. Rat looked confused, then he got that light bulb look of his and, after wiping his hand on his pants,
shook her hand.
"Uh, pleased to meet you. I'm gonna take a quick shower. Wanna join me?"
Charlotte examined his face for the leer she was certain would be there. It wasn't. He was smiling a very real smile, one
eyebrow arched in question. She shook her head. 
"I don't think so, thank you. I believe I will just go to my room now. I'm tired."
He stepped close and, taking her completely by surprise, leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was short and sweet, just
enough to leave her slightly breathless. She even forgot to close her eyes, just widened them in surprise.
Rat straightened and placed his hands on her shoulders. Since he was a good foot taller than she, Charlotte had to tip her
head back to look into his eyes. They seemed to have grown darker brown during their kiss. It must be the lighting, she
thought. 
"This is your room for as long as you're here. If you don't wanna take a shower, why don't you go ahead and get into bed
while I take one, OK?"
He stepped away from her and started pulling his clothes off, tossing them into their place on a shelf. When he unzipped
his pants, Charlotte took a sudden interest in examining a shelf more closely. She couldn't help turning her head slightly to
catch a peek at his naked body. Not bad.
Rat was tall and rather thin, looking as though a strong wind might capsize him. His auburn hair fell several inches below
his shoulder blades. It was stringy and wet with sweat at the moment, so Charlotte thought he could probably look much
better. He had soft, friendly brown eyes. He was clean shaven except for the rather unusual long sideburns that grew to the
middle of his jaw. Remembering that Rafe wore his in somewhat the same fashion, Charlotte wondered if it were some
kind of club thing. Rat's broad, happy smile made a rather nondescript face come to brilliant life.
Rat's shoulders were just short of broad, his chest smooth and hairless. His hips tapered nicely and...Charlotte blushed. No
matter how many she saw, that part of a man always made her blush. It must have been her mother telling her how ugly it
was that had warped her mind. Rat was not erect and for some reason that offended her. Did she want him to have a raging
hard-on for her that he would have to relieve before he lost his mind from the pain? Yes, she thought with a little smile,
that would be nice. She sighed and silently chastised herself. That only happens in books, you dope, and then usually in the
18th century when men went wild at the glimpse of an ankle.
Charlotte returned her attention to the shelf in front of her as Rat headed for the door. As it closed, Charlotte realized she
was alone in the room. Since she hadn't heard the distinctive click of the lock, she assumed that she could leave if she
wanted. Her eyes were drawn to the guns that she had seen earlier. A plan beginning to take form in her mind, she went to
the shelf where they lay and lifted one into her hand. Charlotte frowned at the gritty feel of dirt on her fingers. A clip of
ammunition lay on the shelf behind the gun. She picked it up and put it into the pistol the way she'd seen Don Johnson load
his pretty silver gun. The clip snapped into place. She pulled the top back, imagining that she could feel the deadly bullet
slide into its place in the chamber.
All the shootout scenes she'd ever seen flooded Charlotte's mind. Huge gaping bullet holes in bodies, blood covering walls.
She practically threw the gun back onto the shelf, taking several steps back from it in horror.
"I can't, I just can't put holes in people!"
She sat on the bed and, as usual when she needed to work something out in her mind, talked to herself. 
"Oh, yes you can, Charlotte James, if it's to save your friends from a fate worse than death. Oh, what would Jude Devereaux
do?"
Charlotte remembered how Rafe had slapped Angie without giving it a second thought, how he had held the knife to her
own throat. She straightened her shoulders, stood and reclaimed the weapon from the shelf. Taking a deep breath to steady
her nerves, she headed toward the door.
Rat chose that moment to return. His hair was wet and he had a towel wrapped around his waist. He stopped when he saw
the gun in Charlotte's hand. She raised it menacingly, bringing her other hand up to help her steady it as she'd seen
innumerable television cops do. Never taking his eyes off her, Rat closed the door and locked it. All the friendliness was
gone from his expression, replaced by cold determination. His tone was hard, though slightly cajoling.
"I'm not gonna let you out of this room with that gun, so you might as well hand it over right now."
He put his hand out, palm up. Charlotte took a step back, but kept the gun leveled at his midsection.
"I'm warning you, I'll use this. My friends may be getting hurt and I have to stop it."
"And my friends may get hurt if I let you out of here with that gun. Hell, you might hurt yourself. I don't know how dirty
that thing is. It might explode if you try to fire it. Charlotte! Dammit, I've been nice to you. I didn't throw you down and
jump on you like I wanted to."
The gun lowered a fraction of an inch so Charlotte could get a better look at his face.
"You did?"
"Well, yeah, sure I did. But I figured Rafe had scared the hell out of you already. You didn't need any more rough stuff.
And besides, you said you were tired."
He stepped closer and Charlotte raised the gun again.
"Stay right where you are. I'm warning you!"
His voice lost any pleading tone, going icy cold.
"And I'm warning you, baby, your first shot better kill me. 'Cause if it doesn't, I'll take that gun away from you and you'll
wish you had never been born."
Slowly, he advanced on her. Charlotte's sweaty finger tightened on the trigger. She wished Angie were here, she'd know
what to do. She began lowering the gun, knowing she just couldn't shoot him in cold blood. He wasn't even armed, for
Heaven's sake!
A fist pounding on the door made them both jump. Rat swung his fist backward, knocking the gun out of Charlotte's hand.
As the small weapon flew into the air, there was a loud explosion. Rat jumped at Charlotte, his flying body knocking her to
the bed, his weight forcing the air from her lungs as he landed on her.
After several seconds of silence, during which Charlotte enjoyed the feeling of being protected, Rat jumped to his feet.
Charlotte saw that he had lost his towel and he no longer lacked enthusiasm for her presence. He leaned down, looking at
something on the floor. Charlotte rolled onto her side and followed his awed gaze.
What was left of the gun was lying on the floor. The top had been blown off and the blackened barrel was shattered and
smoking. Charlotte had a bitter taste akin to blood in her mouth. She licked her lips, checking for a cut. Rat noticed and
somewhat absentmindedly explained.
"Gunpowder. Tastes like blood."
The door was kicked open and one of the pirates that Charlotte didn't know by name came rushing into the room like a
Marine storming a beach, his Mac 10 in his hands. He stopped when he saw Rat standing there. With a quizzical tilt of his
head, he asked in a wary voice. "What's goin' on, Rat?"
Remembering what Rafe had said about Charlotte getting into trouble, Rat lied smoothly.
"I was showin' Charlotte one of my guns and it blew up."
The man let his gun drop onto his chest where it hung on its strap. He looked at the remains of the gun on the floor, then he
started to laugh. Between bursts of mirth he remarked, "I guess you, ah, better clean your, uh, weapon before, huh, you
show it to, um, your ladies from now on, huh, Bud?"
Rat smiled and looked at the ground, blushing. He walked toward the man.
"Yeah, I guess so. Now will you get the...Hey, you broke my door?" 
The lock had held but the doorframe had not. A piece of it hung from the open door. The pirate looked at it and shrugged.
"Sorry, man, I thought the chick was killin' ya or somethin'. Oh, Jenkins called. He said that Colombian freighter Rafe's
been waitin' on left early. It aughta be in our space in about three hours. I thought you'd wanna tell him."
Rat's tone turned pleading.
"Why can't you tell him, can't ya see I'm busy?"
The men turned as one to look at Charlotte, who was still lying on the bed. She immediately got to her feet. The unknown
man's leer was enough to make her want to punch him.
"Yeah, well, so's Rafe probably busy. And I ain't gonna be the one to disturb him."
"Great. What am I, Rafe-proof? I'm not gonna bug him when he's got a new piece, no way."
"That freighter's s'posed to be carryin' at least 50 keys."
"Damn!"
Rat looked thoughtful, then his internal light switch came on.
"Get Blade, he can tell him. Only wait another hour or so, cause Blade's got one, too. That'll give us a couple'a hours to set
the trap. Yeah, that should be plenty of time."
He lowered his voice, hoping Charlotte couldn't hear him. 
"Now, get outta here, will ya? I only got an hour."
The man laughed as he left the room, pulling the decimated door closed as well as he could. Rat turned to Charlotte. His
look was soft, yet determined.
"Okay, where were we?"
Charlotte lifted her chin a notch.
"I have no intention of being your 'new piece'. That is a disgusting thing to say about my friend. If you think that I'm just
going to stand here and let you rape me, you've got another think coming. And another thing..."
Rat put his hands out.
"Whoa. Will you shut up a minute?"
He sat on the bed and patted the blanket next to him. Charlotte raised an eyebrow. He smiled and shrugged. 
"I don't bite. Look, I'm not into that rape, pillage and plunder thing like Rafe and Blade. I want to f...uh, make it with you,
but I'm not gonna rape you. So, if you don't want to get it on, why don't you sit down and we can talk?"
He was sincere, Charlotte could read that in his eyes. She sat next to him, not too close, and looked at him. 
"What do you want to talk about?"
He laughed.
"I got a feeling you'll come up with something."
Charlotte smiled at him. He thought she was pretty, especially when she smiled. Her black hair was cut short in a
fashionable bob that made her look perky. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, with long lashes. She reminded him of
a doe, like Bambi's mom. Only her mouth was lots nicer. He remembered kissing her and felt an unwelcome throb. He
wished he were more like Rafe. If he were, he wouldn't be hurtin' now.
"It's not that I don't find you attractive," Charlotte apologized, "I do, I mean, at least a little. You're not really my type. I like
more sophisticated men. No offense."
Rat started to say he hadn't taken any, but Charlotte was on a roll. 
"See, I know it's a ridiculous idea, but I'm saving myself for my husband. Well," she sighed, "that's not exactly true. I mean,
I'm not quite a virgin. But I've only slept with two men, and I was in love with both of them. They just didn't turn out to be
right for me.
"I really want a romantic man, you know, one who'll bring me flowers and candy. And make love to me all night long, not
just till he gets his jollies. Modern men are so shallow. They only want one thing and once they get it, they treat you
differently, like used merchandise. I really don't think I ask that much, do you?"
Again Rat made to reply, but settled for just shaking his head as she continued. For the next twenty minutes, Rat listened to
Charlotte's life story. He didn't really mind, he liked listening to her. She was so cute and animated she made him feel as
though he were special, the only person in the world that she would tell such personal thoughts.
Charlotte finally ran down. She realized with a flush of embarrassment that she had been rambling on for some time
without a word from Rat. But he seemed truly interested in what she was saying. He hadn't said much, but he had made
appropriate sounds of approval and nodded his head once or twice. She'd never had a man act as though what she was
saying was important to him. Feeling slightly guilty for monopolizing the conversation, Charlotte decided it was his turn.
"How did you get to be a pirate?"
Rat smiled.
"Rafe. He came to New York on business one time. I was pan-handling on the dock, not gettin' much of anywhere."
He shrugged.
"Anyway, these two sailors, a couple 'o real bastards, come up to me and start hassling me, tellin' me they don't want no
junkies on their dock. I was gonna leave, but they started beatin' on me. I guess they just wanted to hurt somebody and I
was there. Lucky me. Rafe pulled 'em off me, decked 'em both. He was all duded up in his business suit, real dressy, you
know. He ripped his coat up the back, tore his shirt. Really messed up his expensive duds."
Regret over the ruined suit brought a sad look to his eyes, then he shrugged again and went on with his story.
"So Rafe comes over to me and I'm layin' on the dock bleedin', wishing I could just die. He's all pumped up, lookin' like he
hasn't beaten up enough people for one day, you know? Anyway, he gives me that real disgusted look he gets sometimes
and says, 'I ruined a good suit for you, boy. I'm not gonna waste it.' He walked away and I figured I'd seen the last of him. I
was pretty messed up, doped, you know, so I don't know how long he was gone, but he came back with a couple o' the guys.
They picked me up and took me to the boat. I tried to fight 'em when I figured out where they were goin' cause I didn't like
boats. Rafe punched me in the jaw, cold-cocked me. He brought me to his island and locked me in this room. When I came
to, he told me he wouldn't let me out till I was clean."
He shuddered at the memory.
"He came in every day, read to me, talked to me when I was makin' sense. I don't remember a lot of it. I was never so sick
in my life. I can't tell ya how much I wanted to get high or die. Rafe would tell me how great it was gonna be when I was
better. After a while, I started believin' him. When I finally returned to the land of the living, Rafe asked me if I wanted to
join his crew. I told him I didn't know anything about boats, didn't even like 'em much. He just laughed and told me they'd
find something I was good at. Turned out, I was good at scroungin'. If Rafe hadn't come along that day, I'd probably be dead
now, OD'ed in some alley."
Charlotte laid her hand on Rat's arm. He looked at her, slowly returning to the present.
"I'm not much of a pirate, don't swim so good, don't like killin' people. But I know what Rafe likes, the kind of stuff the
other guys might think isn't worth takin'. I make sure it's here when he wants it. I guess that's how I'm payin' him back for
savin' my life."
His eyes sparkled, a smile brightening his face.
"Rafe loves junk food. He's got a real jones for Twinkies."
Charlotte laughed at his conspiratorial whisper. Rat slowly and gently wrapped her in his embrace and kissed her. This time
she remembered to close her eyes.
As the first wave of true love washed over Charlotte, there came the sound of someone clearing their throat. She realized
that she had her arms around Rat. She dropped them, looked at her hands in her lap. Rat said "Damn!", then looked at the
door.
"What!"
Rafe stood in the ruined doorway, an eyebrow arched at Rat's tone. 
"Rafe! Uh, sorry, I didn't know it was you."
Rat jumped to his feet like a little boy about to go play. His voice matched his actions.
"Did Blade tell you about the freighter? Are we gonna go now?"
Rafe smiled, a devilish grin.
"How do you know about the freighter, Rat?"
Rat frowned, then shrugged sheepishly.
"I figured Blade was tough enough to take interrupting you."
Rafe laughed.
"Take her to my room. She can stay there with her friends while we go have some fun."
Rafe looked at Charlotte, then noticed the destroyed gun lying on the floor. His eyebrows came together in a frown.
"I won't ask 'cause you'd probably lie to me to save the bitch and then I'd have to kill you. She isn't even naked, Rat. Are
you losin' your touch, or what?!"
Rat looked at the floor, kicked at a piece of the gun. Rafe turned to leave.
"We leave in twenty minutes. Be there!"
                         Chapter Eight
                                
Angela awoke as Rafe slipped from the bed to answer the soft knock at his door. She hadn't heard any sound, but as she felt
his weight shift away from her, she was instantly alert. She realized with a smile that she must not have been deeply asleep
because, as had recently been proven, it took quite a lot to wake her up.
After having a quiet conversation with someone at the door, which Angela couldn't hear, Rafe went to the armoire and
started getting dressed. Angela stretched like a contented cat and watched as he covered the body she had come to know so
well. On went the black shirt, pants, boots. A blood-red silk scarf tied around his head completed his pirate ensemble.
Rafe went to his weapons cabinet and slipped his Mac 10 over his neck. He slid two clips into the ammunition case that
adorned his belt, and thrust another knife down the back of his pants.
Rafe had lost his last knife in his ocean rescue of Rat. He smiled in affection for his friend. One suit coat, an expensive
shirt, several items of furniture - trashed during his 'drying out' period - and now a silk scarf and a good knife - the list of
things lost to the rescue of Rat was getting longer.
Fully armed, he turned to see Angela sitting up on the bed, her mass of blonde hair cascading over her shoulders to allow
him a limited view of her pale skin. She had pulled up the black velvet bedspread, holding it modestly at her breast. Her
eyes were still sleep-softened, her moist lips beckoning him to forget the freighter and join her.
He could lose himself in her glorious body forever. That thought set off an alarm of warning inside Rafe's mind. Yes, this
vixen could bewitch him completely if he let her. If he were still capable of love, she would touch it, make him vulnerable
again. He straightened and ground his teeth together, his brows almost touching in a fierce frown. No way was he going to
let that happen!
Angela wondered what had made the softness leave his face. He had been so handsome just seconds before, when he had
looked at her as though he loved her. She held her breath, waiting for the words she knew would change her life forever.
They never came. Instead, his expression turned mean, his eyes darkening to near-black. She pulled the spread tightly to
her throat.
He towered over her, pointing his finger at her. It almost touched her nose. His voice was as hard as steel.
"I'll give you a choice. We've got some business to attend to. You and your friends can either stay in this room and behave
yourselves, or I'll lock you in the cellar. It's dark and inhabited down there, and I've heard it is not the best accommodation
on the island."
He knelt on the bed, grasped her shoulders in his hands, squeezing just enough to let her know he was very serious. His face
was inches from her own. Angela searched his eyes for any trace of the man who had made love to her, expertly claiming
her for his own. She saw none. Here again was the fearsome pirate - rapist and murderer extra ordinaire.
"I don't have time to make sure there's nothing poisonous down there. So, it's your choice: do you behave or do you take
your chances with the fauna in the cellar?"
Angela forced anger to replace the hurt she was feeling at his cold treatment of her. She glared at him, tossing her hair.
"You call that a choice?"
He smiled an evil smile.
"It's the best offer you're gonna get, sweetheart."
"Fine. Since I'm not in the mood to go on safari, I guess we'll have to behave. May I ask where you're going and how long
you might be gone?"
He released her shoulders, chucked her under the chin as he left the bed and stood beside it. His smile was a little nicer,
just a little.
"You sound like a wife, baby. Don't worry, I won't let you starve. I'll see that someone brings you something to eat.
Bedroom aerobics give you a hell of an appetite, don't they?"
She gasped and blushed. He chuckled and headed for the door. He wanted to be sure that she, and maybe he, understood
her place. Doorknob in hand, he turned to her.
"Take heart, Angel, maybe I'll find another nice piece on this raid, and you won't have to bear my company any longer.
You'd still bring a pretty penny. We'll see."
Angela stared at the door after he left, the pain in her heart growing with each breath. A nice piece, that was all she was to
him. The pain was so intense that she actually pressed her hand to her chest. Her throat constricted, nearly stopping her
breath. She waited for the sobs, the tears to start. But they wouldn't come. Her eyes so dry that they hurt, she continued to
stare at the door. Some things hurt so much that even crying your heart out won't fix it. Angela knew that this was one of
those things.
Forcing herself to examine what had taken place between herself and Rafe, Angela tried to look on it as he obviously did,
just a recreational activity. She couldn't kid herself. In a moment of self-analysis, Angela faced the fact that she had
avoided sex for so long because she knew that if she ever allowed herself to be that close to someone, close enough to
completely lose her precious control, she would fall in love with them.
Did that mean that she had fallen in love with this pirate? Angela shook her head violently, denying that she could be that
stupid. The memory of his face as he slept, the innocent vulnerability unmasked, came unbidden to her mind. She knew in
that moment that she could deny it till doomsday, but it would still rule her life from now on. Always one to face facts
head-on, Angela accepted the fact that Rafe had captured more than her and her friends. He had captured her heart, whether
he wanted it or not. But hadn't he just made it perfectly clear that he did not?
Pink light was beginning to fill the room, a new day dawning. Angela shook herself from her foolish, lovelorn thoughts.
Even if she had lost her heart to him, she was not going to lose her freedom and her friends. She would face the new day
with a plan of escape.
Angela wrapped the velvet spread around her body and went into the bathroom to splash her face and take care of
necessary business. As she observed her reflection in the bathroom mirror, deciding that she looked like she'd just risen
from the dead, she heard the bedroom door open and quickly close. She didn't have to wait long to find out who had just
come into the room.
"Angie?" Charlotte's voice, sounding worried and a little breathless, rang through the room. "Angie, are you in here?"
Angela walked out of the bathroom and into Charlotte's arms. Charlotte attempted to hug the air from her body, then
stepped back from her with wide eyes.
"Are you naked under there?"
Angela smiled.
"Ever the diplomat. Yes, I am naked, but I don't want to talk about it right now, okay? We have more important things to
think about."
For once, Charlotte took a hint and didn't pursue the subject, although she was certain that her curiosity would kill her.
Angela dropped the bedspread, pulling her dress from the floor and over her head. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she
finished dressing, somewhat surprised that her clothes were all together in such a neat pile. Her pirate was full of surprises.
'Stop that,' she admonished herself, 'he is NOT your pirate!' 
"What's that terrible frown for? You look like Rafe."
Before Angela could answer, the door opened and Ginny flew into the room with obvious assistance.
"Fine. I don't care if you get your fool head blown off. I just hope they hit you lower first!"
The door slammed shut, the sound of a masculine chuckle echoing through the room. Ginny reached for the knob.
"What's so damn funny? And don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you, you bastard! Oh!"
Finding the door locked, Ginny kicked it. She glared at the closed door, waiting for some reaction to her insult. Seeing that
none was forthcoming, she turned and limped to the bed. Sitting beside Angela, she pulled her foot into her lap, grimacing
as she rubbed the toes she had used to punctuate her anger. Noticing her friends watching her, she flashed a sarcastic smile.
"Isn't this vacation fun? Great idea, Char. Sail the seven seas, meet interesting men. Get kidnapped by a bunch of low-life
scum. I wonder why that wasn't in the brochure. Ow!"
Angela tried not to smile at her friend's pain, but failed. Chuckling softly, she put her arm around Ginny's shoulders. She
had a bit more success at controlling her laughter.
"Do you think it's broken?"
Ginny looked at Angela, saw that she was trying not to laugh. She tried to look forlorn, but the grin stealing at the corners
of her mouth gave it away.
"Probably, the way this day's been going."
Ginny looked around the room, taking in the furniture and color scheme.
"Don't tell me, Captain Pirate's den, right?"
"Right."
Ginny heard the slight catch in Angie's voice, saw the flash of pain, quickly hidden, in her eyes.
"You okay, Angie?"
Angie gave both of her friends a serious look, determining that they had all had experiences that might best be left alone
for the moment.
"I think we've all had a difficult last few hours and would rather not talk about it."
Charlotte chirped, "I want to talk about it." Angela scowled at her and she looked at the floor, saying in a small voice,
"Well, I do."
"Right now, I think we should concentrate on getting out of this predicament we find ourselves in. We can have a nice long
talk about our experiences later. Maybe we'll even write a best-seller. But for now, I think it might be better if we just keep
our minds on our escape. Okay?"
Angela stood and walked toward the french doors, stalling as she finalized the plan in her mind. Giving a sharp nod of
decision, she turned and, silhouetted by the almost red light of dawn, she told her friends of her plan for freedom.
After rifling through Rafe's armoire for any useful items of clothing, Angela wrapped one of his shirts around her hand and
punched the glass of the weapons cabinet. The pillows they had spread in front of the case effectively muffled the sound of
falling glass, as she had hoped they would. She used her protected hand to break out more glass so that they wouldn't cut
themselves on the jagged edges. She removed the shirt and, flexing her aching hand, began pulling guns from the case.
There was only one Mac 10 and Angela claimed that for herself. She slung its strap around her neck, as she had seen Rafe
do, grabbed several clips of ammunition and stuck them in the belt she'd 'borrowed' from Rafe's armoire. She looked at the
selection of knives, picked a small dagger with an ornately carved leather sheath, which she hung on her belt. Then she
stepped back to let her friends make their choices.
"Okay, take whatever you think you'll use. We don't want to be too weighted down."
Ginny took a .45 automatic, putting it and several clips in her belt, also borrowed from Rafe. Then it was Charlotte's turn.
She studied the selection for several minutes, not taking anything, until Angela asked her what was taking her so long.
Charlotte turned her tear-streaked face to Angela.
"I know I'm a complete wimp, but I don't think I can shoot anybody. I'm sorry, Angie."
To avert a major flood, Angela reached around Charlotte and handed her a machete in a finely-carved leather sheath.
"Here, hang this on your belt. You can kill any plants that get in our way, okay?"
Charlotte sniffled, wiped her hand across her face and, with a smile, went about securing the huge knife to her belt.
They tied the sheets from Rafe's bed together, making a rope that they hoped would reach to the ground. At Ginny's
suggestion, they tied knots about every three feet. Looking out through the red lace sheers first to be sure that no one was
about, Angela opened the french doors and cautiously stepped out onto the balcony. The white wrought-iron railing she had
noticed when she had first seen the house seemed quite sturdy. Crouching, so no passerby might see her, she tied the end of
their makeshift rope to the railing. She looked back into the room.
"Are we ready," she whispered.
Ginny gave her the thumb-and-finger ok sign. Quickly, Angela tossed the rope over the railing, expecting to hear an alarm
go up at any minute. She looked over the rail and felt dizzy. 'Oh, well,' she thought, remembering the last time she'd tried to
do something like this, 'at least there isn't any water down there.' She took firm hold of one of the knots and stepped over
the rail. Taking her feet off of the balcony and letting them slide to the first knot was the hardest part. It seemed much
farther than three feet. Bracing her feet on that knot, she slid her hands down to the next knot, then her feet. Each time, it
became a tiny bit easier to make her hands and feet move. When she felt solid ground against her feet, Angela said a quick
prayer of thanks.
Looking up at the balcony now above her head, Angela waved her hand to the others to follow her. She pulled the Mac 10
into her hands and turned her back to the rope to stand guard. She wasn't sure if she could really shoot someone, but she'd
tear up the ground and scare the hell out of them!
Charlotte went next, enduring the torture with what she thought was admirable aplomb. Twice, as her feet slid down the
rope, Charlotte became convinced that the next knot had somehow come untied and she was going to fall to her death. She,
of course, screamed. The second time, Ginny leaned over the rail and said in a loud whisper, "Dammit, Charlotte, you're
about two feet from the ground. The fall wouldn't kill you, but if you scream one more time, I just might!" By the time
Charlotte reached the ground, Angela was sure that if there were anyone around, they must be deaf.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, Charlotte placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Ginny.
"You, Virginia Raymond, are the meanest person ever born, do you know that?!"
Ginny flashed her a smile, said "Yeah, I know," then quite smoothly descended the rope. Angela gaped at the ease with
which she handled the rope.
"Where did you learn to do that?"
Ginny gathered the end of the rope in her hand and threw it as hard as she could back up on the balcony. Only a small piece
still showed where it was tied to the railing. Ginny smiled and nodded. Then she turned to Angela.
"Brothers."
They headed down the path to the dock, Angela in front, Ginny bringing up the rear. Each had a gun in their hand and a
casual observer, judging by the looks on their faces, would have thought them quite capable of using them. When they
reached the dock, Angela held up her hand for them to wait. She eased cautiously onto the wooden platform. When she was
satisfied that no one lurked there, she motioned for her friends to join her.
"So, what do we do now, swim?"
Charlotte gasped and turned to Angela.
"Oh, Angie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
Angela laughed softly.
"Even if I could swim, Char, I don't think it would be a viable means of escape. No, we have to find a boat of some kind.
There has to be one around here somewhere. They wouldn't fish in those speedboats."
"I hate to mention it, Ange, but Blade didn't seem the type to fish much. What makes you think any of them are?"
"Rat would probably fish. Only he doesn't like boats."
Both of her friends turned to give Charlotte incredulous stares.
"He's a pirate, Char", Angela reminded her friend.
Charlotte straightened and returned their stare.
"I know. But he's only a pirate because Rafe saved his life and he didn't want to go back to a life of degradation and crime."
Angela stepped close to Charlotte, speaking as if to a child.
"But, Charlotte, piracy is a crime."
As her friends smiled at her, Charlotte blushed and shook her head.
"Oh, you know what I mean."
Angela smiled affectionately at her friend.
"Not really, but that's normal."
From the corner of her eye, Angela saw something white sticking out of the bushes at the far end of the dock. She pointed
excitedly.
"What's that?" Angela said even as she rushed toward the object. It was a small boat, its oars resting on its seats. Angela
said, "All right!" and grabbed the rope that tied the boat to the dock. She pulled it as close as possible. Looking at the water,
she felt her throat starting to close. Remembering Rafe's words, 'nice piece', she pushed her fear to the back of her mind
and stepped into the little fishing boat.
It was quite a balancing act, getting the three of them into the boat without any of them taking an impromptu swim. But
they managed it. Angela looked at Ginny.
"I don't suppose your brothers taught you how to row a boat by any chance?"
Ginny shrugged. 
"How hard can it be?"
They found out quickly that it is not the rowing that's hard, it's the steering. By the time she had rowed them almost into the
other side of the cove, Ginny had the hang of using each oar individually to steer the small craft. Pride in their stealthy
escape making their faces glow, the three women headed out to the open sea.

                          Chapter Nine
                                
"Now I know how a baked potato feels."
"Yeah," Ginny replied to Angela's observation, "overdone and all shriveled up."
The three friends lay as stretched out as their small craft would allow, taking a break from rowing. The sun was merciless
as it made its daily climb, turning up the oven degree by degree until they thought they would suffocate from the heat. They
had covered themselves in the clothes that they had 'borrowed' from Rafe, even wrapped their heads and faces like Arabs,
trying to protect their pale skin from the sun's rays. Though this would probably save them from third-degree burns, it made
the heat even more unbearable. Angela knew they had to keep their minds off the smoldering furnace of a day or lose them
completely.
"So, Char, why don't you tell us about this Mouse person."
"Rat! His name's Rat!"
Angela looked at Ginny and smiled. Grinning back, Ginny remarked, "Yeah, Angie, at least keep your rodents straight."
Charlotte looked from Ginny to Angela and, seeing that they were jiving her, gave a little laugh. Sobering quickly, her eyes
misted as she remembered how sweet Rat had been to her. Would she ever see him again?
"He was really nice. He didn't even try to rape me, even though he wanted to. We just talked. And kissed."
Her wistful tone touched each of her friends in its own way. They all had memories of pirate kisses. Memories they wanted
to forget. Memories they wanted to keep forever. Angela's lips curved in a sweet, sad smile.
"I wish we had gotten a chance to talk more."
Charlotte lifted the shirt that covered her face and stared at Angela. In a soft voice, she said, "It finally happened, huh, our
fearless leader met her match?"
"I guess so," Angela's tone was soft, somewhat surprised. Had she met her match, the only man that she would ever love?
Could fate be so cruel, to give her the perfect man, then take him away before she really even got to know him? These
melancholy thoughts were getting them nowhere. She sat up, took up the oars and began rowing. Chin as high as she could
stand in this heat, she tossed her hair, almost throwing the protective shirt off of her head. Her tone was no-nonsense, even
business-like.
"Okay, you're both obviously going to die if I don't talk about it. Rafe and I made love. I mean, he made love to me. Or
maybe it was just sex, I don't know. I wasn't exactly asked."
Ginny sat up, looking angry.
"You mean he raped you?"
"Not really. I guess I should start at the beginning. I fell asleep on his bed. He took advantage of the situation and went for
it. When I woke up, it was already happening and I... well, I didn't really know what to do. I tried to push him off of me.
That was a joke, like trying to push a refrigerator uphill. I told him to stop but he said he couldn't even if he wanted to.
Then I," Angela blushed, remembering the pleasure she had felt in Rafe's arms, "... I guess I didn't want him to stop. He was
so strong, so... oh, I don't know. I think I temporarily lost my mind. For a minute, I actually thought I might be falling in
love with him."
Charlotte's wide-eyed expression illustrated her disbelief.
"With that pirate?! Angie, are you crazy? He looks like he eats kittens for breakfast. Probably after torturing them first!"
Her friend's hurt look made Charlotte realize how deeply this man had gotten under Angela's skin. Giving it some thought,
she decided he had his good points.
"He is awfully good-looking though."
It was Ginny's turn to look and sound wistful.
"Dinner. I have it on good authority that they eat them for dinner around here, Char."
Angela looked at Ginny and saw her own pain reflected in her friend's eyes. She rowed harder.
"Dammit, it's not fair! Why couldn't they have been insurance salesmen or something?"
Char smiled.
"'Cause insurance salesmen wouldn't have kidnapped us. I don't think the competition in the insurance business is that
fierce."
They all laughed, sharing each other's happiness, and pain, in a way only best friends can. With a wry grin, Angela asked
Ginny, "So, how was your day?"
Ginny shrugged, not fooling her friends for one minute with her nonchalance.
"A little rough. Blade is not exactly your Sir Galahad type. But..."
She blushed and laughed.
"Okay, so he's the best I've ever had. But he is such an ass! He thinks he can just take anything he wants. Just pull out his
blade and go for it, you know?"
They all realized the double meaning of Ginny's words at about the same minute, and burst into uncontrolled giggles.
Ginny's blush deepened.
"Oh, you know what I mean. Come to think of it, maybe I meant just what I said."
After a fresh round of giggles, Charlotte spoke up.
"If we all had such a good time and liked the guys we were with, why are we in the middle of the ocean working on our
muscles?"
After a moment of thoughtful silence, Angela answered in a hard voice full of pain, "Because they just want to have a good
time, Char. Then they'll trade us in for next year's model. I didn't want to hang around to find out what happens to their
discards."
"I guess there's no chance that they would have just let us go, huh?"
Angela shook her head.
"We saw them, might be able to lead the authorities to their hideout. No, they would have to do something more
permanent. Rafe mentioned something about bringing a good price."
Charlotte's eyes flew open wide, and she gasped, "You mean they might sell us?"
Angela shrugged.
"That's what it sounded like. My arms are falling off, Char, your turn."
"Great. I'm going to have muscles like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Men are threatened by muscular women, you know."
Angela smiled and patted Charlotte on the head, making her grimace.
"Not muscular men. And have you ever heard of a hero who wasn't muscular? I think you're safe."
Turning over the duty of oarsman, Angela sat back and stared out to sea, trying not to think about muscular arms wrapping
her in their safe embrace.

Rafe watched, Mac in hand, as his men transferred the stolen cocaine from the freighter to their speedboats. He was pretty
sure that all of the freighter crew had been taken out, but he didn't want any surprises, especially the kind that might mean
death to himself or one of his men. Scanning the deck, his eyes alert, he let his mind wander.
This was a good haul, should bring a pretty penny on the market. Rafe frowned, remembering the last time he had thought
about the possible price of something on the market. He had told Angel that she would bring a good price. His stomach
clenched as he remembered the vulnerable hurt look in her eyes. His frown deepening, he realized that he didn't care about
the cocaine, didn't really want to be here. He wanted to be back on the island, holding his Angel, comforting and taming
her. He shook his head. What in the hell was happening to him?
"Rafe?"
Rat's voice was a welcome distraction from his own thoughts. Rafe arched an eyebrow at his friend.
"What we gonna do with 'em?"
Rafe, not wanting to deal with that question, one to which he hadn't found the answer yet, deliberately misunderstood.
"We'll store 'em on the island till we can find a buyer. Maybe we can sell 'em back to the Colombians, huh?"
He turned his wicked grin on Rat, who laughed.
"You'd really try that, wouldn't ya? They'd probably give you one of those Colombian neckties."
Rafe slitted his eyes, his smile chilly.
"They could try."
He slapped Rat on the shoulder.
"Come on. Tonight we celebrate, big time."
Rat hurried to keep up with Rafe's determined stride. Catching up, he pursued his original subject.
"Are we gonna keep 'em? I mean, I really like Charlotte, and I didn't get a chance to get to know her very well."
Rafe looked over at his friend as they continued toward the ladder to his boat.
"You mean you didn't get into her pants."
Rat blushed, smiled.
"That, too. She's kind-of weird, talks a lot, you know?"
"Yeah, I know how annoying that can be."
Rat missed the jive all together. He was concentrating on what he wanted to say. Rafe started to climb over the rail. Rat
took hold of his shoulder, pulling him around. Rafe's chin came up, his eyes narrowing in warning.
"What is your problem, boy?"
Rat knew he was treading on thin ice now. Rafe only called someone 'boy' if he was really mad at them. Something must be
eating at Rafe, something about the women. Rat considered backing down, giving in to that glare, but he had enough faith
in Rafe's friendship to think he'd probably live through getting in his face.
"You're not gonna sell 'em to that oily towel-head, are you, Rafe?"
Rafe tossed his head, straightening into his street-punk stance. His arms hung loosely at his sides, fists partially clenched,
ready for a fight. He spoke softly.
"What if I am, Rat?"
Rat looked into Rafe's eyes, light brown meeting dark chocolate, and saw something he'd never seen there before. He wasn't
sure what it was, but he thought he understood why Rafe wanted to fight. Rafe always wanted to fight if he didn't
understand something, especially if that something were important to him.
Rat raised his hands in front of his chest in a placating gesture. His voice was unusually quiet.
"It's cool, Rafe. I don't think you're gonna do that. I was just curious. That blond is real pretty, huh?"
For the briefest of seconds, something soft flitted across Rafe's eyes. Then he shrugged, turned back to the ladder. Rat
smiled and followed.

The sun sat at the apex of its daily trek, the heat causing steam to rise from the floor of the boat. The three friends had
discussed it and decided that they would row at night, when it wasn't so hot. The question of just where they were trying to
row to was carefully left unaddressed.
They were trying to get some sleep now, but with the heat making them imagine they could here their skins sizzling, it
wasn't working. They all heard the engines of the approaching speedboats long before they could see them. All three
women sat up at once, causing their tiny boat to rock precariously.
Angela turned toward the sound of the roaring engines. He was coming, she could feel it. The briefest of smiles flitted
across her lips, then she straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin proudly. She did not intend to let him know she was
glad to see him. She pulled the Mac-10 into her hands, cocked it.
Charlotte was so happy to here their rescuers coming she wanted to shout it to the world. She knew Rat would be glad to
see her, to know she was all right. Maybe he would be so overcome with emotion, he would declare his undying love for
her. She smiled self-consciously at her silliness. He probably wasn't ready for that, hadn't yet realized how he felt about her.
Men could be so dumb about emotional stuff. She jumped, jarred from her thoughts by the loud snap of Angela's gun being
cocked. She turned and looked at Angela.
"Angie, what are you going to do?"
Determination rang in Angela's words.
"Defend myself."
Charlotte looked at Angela as though she'd gone mad.
"Okay, look, we all know that they're actually helping us, maybe even rescuing us from certain death. I thought it would be
easy, we could just find another island nearby and get help, but I was wrong. Still, I don't intend to just go along peacefully,
like a lamb to the slaughter. I'll be damned if I'm going to thank him for making me a prisoner again!"
They could see the dark shapes sliding through the water now. They would be on them in seconds.
Ginny wasn't certain how she felt about this 'rescue'. Blade had stirred up feelings inside her mind - and body, she thought
with a smile - that she wasn't sure how to handle. Part of her wanted to never see him again so she wouldn't have to deal
with them, part of her wanted to explore them to the fullest. Did that mean she was falling in love? Ginny shook her head,
cocking her gun and preparing to fight. Whatever Ginny felt for Blade, she knew Angela was right. They had to put up a
fight, if only to save face.
Angela slid to the middle of the boat, braced her feet against the sides as well as she could and stood. The boat rocked but
she let her body roll with it. She smiled, proud of herself for maintaining her footing. Maybe she'd get the hang of this boat
stuff, yet. She tossed her head and pointed the Mac at the dark red speedboat leading the approaching fleet.
Rafe couldn't believe what he was seeing. He gave Rat an incredulous look, then threw back his head and began to laugh.
He waved his hand, signaling the others to surround the enemy. The roar of the engines lowered to a purr as the speedboats
circled the little fishing boat, high-tech sharks stalking a minnow.
Rafe smiled, a somewhat nasty smile, as he glared at Angela. He noticed with a flush of pride that she was matching him
glare for glare.
"A little far out for fishing, aren't ya, baby?"
"Depends on what you want to kill. I had sharks in mind."
Rafe stepped around Rat and opened the box where they kept the grappling hook. Angela raised her weapon a notch higher.
Surprisingly, her voice was steady, declaring her deadly intent.
"I wouldn't if I were you."
Rafe dropped his chin, slitting his eyes as he turned a chilling gaze on the gun in Angela's hands, then raised his eyes to
capture hers. His voice would have frozen an Eskimo.
"If you're planning on using that thing, girl, you'd better get to it."
He leaned toward her, his voice only slightly above a whisper, his whole body vibrating with anger.
"And your aim had better be true the first shot, 'cause if it isn't, you won't get a second."
Angela could hear her heart pounding in her ears. But somewhere between desperation and fear, a plan took shape. She
shifted the gun slightly, turning the barrel towards Rat. Rafe straightened.
"I want you and Rat to jump off of the boat and swim to one of the others. We need to borrow your boat. You probably
stole it anyway, so you won't be out anything."
Rafe slowly shook his head. Angela's voice took on a slight pleading quality.
"We promise not to say anything to the police. We just want to go home. Oh, you bastard, stop shaking your head!"
Angela was certain that Rafe had learned that smile from his friends the sharks. It infuriated her. He leaned toward her
again.
"Let me tell you what you're gonna do, bitch. You're gonna drop that piece and sit your pretty ass down while we secure
your boat. Then you and me are gonna talk."
Her anger forced to a dangerous peak by Rafe's cocky, in-control attitude, Angela yelled at him.
"If you don't do what I say, I'll shoot Rat, I swear I will!"
Both Rat and Charlotte gaped at her in astonishment. Charlotte started to stand up in protest.
"Angie, you can't do that."
Angela let her eyes slip to Charlotte for one minute. That was enough. At Ginny's shout of, "Ange, look out!" she looked up
to see the grappling hook flying through the air toward them. In a reflex action, Angela pulled the trigger. Black holes
appeared like magic down the side of Rafe's Scarab. Rafe pushed Rat to the deck. The hook caught the fishing boat,
digging deeply into its side. Rafe pulled on the rope attached to the hook.
Between the kick of the gun, trying to avoid crashing into Charlotte and the sudden movement of the boat, Angela's balance
was decimated. With a scream, she tumbled over backward, the side of the boat catching her painfully across the back, and
plunged into the ocean.
Terror grabbed instantly for Angela's throat as she tried to scream again and her mouth filled with water. She choked,
trying to draw breath where there was none. Thrashing about, she instinctively tried to reach the surface, but she was so
disoriented by the blackness of the water, she was unsure where the surface was. Darkness was all around her, closing in,
trying to claim her for its own.
A band of steel closed around Angela's chest, pinning her arms at her sides. Her back was pulled against a wall of rock. The
water flowed past her face, stroking her cheeks as she was propelled upwards. When she broke the surface of the water,
Angela drew in a breath of the most wonderful air she had ever tasted. Fear still had her in its grip and she thrashed to be
free. A voice she knew well whispered in her ear, calming her, stilling her movements.
"It's okay, Angel, I've got you. Don't fight me, baby. Just breathe. That's it, just lay in my arms, honey, and I'll keep you
safe."
Angela let her body go limp, continuing to take huge gulps of air as though she could never get enough. Becoming dizzy
from the overload of oxygen and all the excitement, she forced herself to relax and breathe normally. Lulled by the minor
shock she was experiencing, she enjoyed her position. She was pressed against Rafe's chest, could feel his powerful leg
muscles pumping, taking them to safety.
Angela looked up at the sun and thought she had never seen anything quite so beautiful. Then the sun was replaced by Rat's
worried face as he leaned over the side of the speedboat and gently pulled her in. Since her legs seemed to be made of
rubber, Rat laid her on the floor and stepped back as Rafe knelt beside her. Rat was worried.
"Can I get anything, man? Is she okay?"
Rafe was looking deeply into her eyes. Angela could hear Charlotte and Ginny yelling, asking if she were okay. She wanted
to answer them, but just didn't have the energy at the moment. All she wanted right now was to be held in Rafe's strong
arms forever. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He tensed for one heartbeat, fear of hurting her
making him hesitate, then grabbed her to him in a back-breaking hug. He sat on the deck of the speedboat and pulled her
into his lap. Rocking slightly, he spoke to her in a voice tinged with desperation and relief.
"You went under the boat. I couldn't find you. Oh, God, Angel, I thought I'd lost you!"
Angela let her head drop back to look into his eyes. They were so warm, she wanted to drown in them. She smiled, thinking
that was the only kind of drowning she would ever want to experience.
Rafe saw her smile and felt something inside himself crack, some long-sealed door opening. He grabbed her hair so that
she couldn't look away from him, could see how deadly serious he was.
"Don't ever try to get away from me again, Angel. Never!"
Angela gave her head a little shake. Then his lips were on hers, taking her breath away more surely than had the ocean
minutes before. But she wasn't afraid. She knew that his breath would replace hers. She was safe here in her pirate's arms.

Angela couldn't look at Rafe without grinning. He looked so disgruntled. She and her friends were in Rafe's Scarab with
Rat and Rafe, but Rafe wasn't driving. No roar came from the mighty engines of the craft. After she had accidentally
aerated it with the Mac, the boat had refused to start. Rafe had cursed soundly, but with no real anger, just annoyance. The
dark red speedboat was secured to Blade's craft by a long length of rope. Now, Rafe sat in the driver's seat of his disabled
Scarab, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Blade. Blade steered his speedboat, and Rafe's, into the cove. The little
fishing boat similarly tied to another of the sleek vessels, the pirate fleet carefully maneuvered into their hideout.
Rafe must have felt Angela looking at him because he turned his scowl on her. She quickly covered her mouth to hide her
grin. She knew she should be properly upset about disabling Rafe's Scarab, but she wasn't. She was thankful that she hadn't
hurt Rat or Rafe; however, she felt they deserved to pay some price for the discomfort that she and her friends had suffered.
Besides, she hadn't meant to shoot his boat, he had scared her and made her do it. She decided to try to explain that to Rafe.
"Rat, will you trade me places?"
Rat, who was sitting next to Rafe, looked at her suspiciously, then shrugged.
"Sure."
When Angela was seated next to Rafe, she turned and looked in his direction. He was still glaring through the windshield
of the Scarab. She continued to stare at him until, his annoyance obvious in his scowl, he turned her way.
"What?"
His tone was sharp, but Angela detected something akin to a pout in his voice and face. She smiled.
"I'm sorry that I threatened Rat. I shouldn't have done that. I wouldn't really have shot him, you know."
He looked toward the wounded side of his Scarab, and arched his eyebrow.
"That was your fault! I wasn't going to shoot, but when you tried to kill me with that hook thing, I just... well, my finger had
a mind of its own."
"It's a grappling hook, and I didn't try to kill you with it. If I had, you'd be dead. I was just trying to grab the stupid boat so I
could get my hands around your pretty little neck!"
"You could have missed. And you sure don't take apologies well."
"Give me one I want to hear and I'll take it just fine."
"You don't care that I wasn't going to shoot Rat?"
He shook his head.
"I knew that. You're not the type to shoot anybody, but especially not Rat."
"I assure you, Mr. High-and-Mighty Pirate Captain, you do not know me well enough to make such judgements. And why
not Rat?"
He turned around in his seat to look at Rat, who was holding Charlotte's hand, sympathizing as she told him all about their
arduous journey. Rat seemed mesmerized as he rubbed the callouses Charlotte was pointing out on her hands.
Angela turned and joined Rafe in watching the little drama. Rafe looked at her, shook his head and, with a little smile,
turned back to the front of the boat. His voice had lost its hard edge.
"Hell, the only reason Rat will ever get shot is because he drives someone crazy with his damn talking."
He shook his head again as he chuckled. Then he looked at Angela and his eyes were serious.
"Rat's innocent. You'd never hurt an innocent, Angel."
Angela blushed at his warm, caressing tone.
"My friends call me Angie."
He leaned forward, put his finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. Angela's heart began doing a two-step at his
touch. His lips came closer to hers with each word.
"I'm not your friend, Angel, I'm your lover."
A light breeze was blowing, cooling the day, but it did nothing against the fire building inside of her. Rafe's hair, blown by
the breeze, brushed her face and sent a tingle down her spine. Then his lips touched hers and threw gasoline on the fire.
Angela's lips were soft beneath Rafe's hard mouth, her breath coming in little gasps. She slowly parted her lips to allow his
tongue entry, but he didn't take the hint. He drew back from her, pushing her away with his hands on her shoulders. She
raised questioning eyes to him. His eyes were near-black, his face covered with sweat.
"You really don't understand what you're doin' to me, do you? Hell, I don't understand it, why should you? If I kiss you one
more time, Angel, I won't care where we are or who's watching, I'll take you right here. God, I can't wait to get you back in
my bed. I want to stay there for days. Then maybe I'll be able to get my mind off of you." He ran his hands down her bare
arms, felt her tremble and his body give an answering shiver.
"Maybe not."
He flashed a full smile that nearly knocked her over, tossing his head to get his hair out of his face. The move made Angela
realize that his scarf was missing.
"Where's your fancy pirate headgear?"
His disgruntled look returned, but with an underlying smile.
"Shark food. Between you and Rat, I'm gonna go broke trying to keep myself in scarves. Maybe I'll just give 'em up."
Angela laughed, a light happy sound.
"Maybe you should get a haircut."
Rafe's chin came up suddenly, his nostrils flaring as though he had been deeply insulted. She had no idea why, but Angela
knew that steel walls had just crashed down all around him. He slitted his eyes at her, eyes that had gone so cold they
looked like they might crack. She actually felt a tiny flicker of fear. He continued to glare at her as he spoke.
"Rat, get back up here!"
Angela frowned and reached out to touch his arm. He turned away from her.
"Get back with your friends."
"But, Rafe, what... ?"
"Get the hell back there!"
His booming yell sent Angela flying from his side to seek the comfort of her friends. Rat cautiously sat in the seat she had
vacated, watching Rafe as though he expected him to explode. But Rafe seemed oblivious. For the rest of the journey, he
stared straight ahead and said nothing, confused and lost in his own private Hell.

                          Chapter Ten
                                
"What did you say to him?"
Angela was staring at Rafe's unyielding profile as he watched Blade reel in the Scarab. In answer to Charlotte's question
she shrugged, turning confusion filled eyes to her friend.
"I haven't the vaguest idea. We were just talking, he was even smiling, then all of a sudden, boom, he turned into a grizzly
bear."
"Well, whatever you were talking about should as of now be a taboo subject."
Charlotte's curiosity was killing her. She couldn't imagine what could cause such a sudden and drastic change in a man. She
pursued the subject.
"What exactly were you talking about?"
Ginny came to Angela's rescue.
"Char, do you ever shut up? Can't you see Angie's upset?"
Charlotte cast Ginny a frowning glance.
"Sometimes it helps to talk about things that upset you. It always helps me."
"You never shut up long enough to get upset in the first place!"
Angela smiled at her friends and stepped in to stop their squabbling.
"Okay, truce. Let's remember who the enemy is here. I have no idea what set him off. It wasn't anything I said on purpose. I
just don't know."
Angela sighed, running the conversation over in her mind one more time. Getting nowhere in her pursuit of the key to
Rafe's mood change, she decided to let it rest until she could discuss it with him.
"I need to talk to both of you about something."
Ginny and Charlotte moved closer to her, looking quite conspiratorial. Angela took a deep breath, knowing her friends
were going to tell her that her decision was insane. The worst problem was that she wasn't sure they would be wrong.
Everything was happening so quickly. She'd always been one to think things through before making a decision. This time,
though, her heart had made the decision for her. And hearts don't think things through. Angela plunged in with both feet.
"I'm going to stay here with Rafe."
Wincing slightly in anticipation of their outburst, she raised her hands to silence her friends before they could start in on
her.
"Before you tell me how crazy I am, I already know how spur-of-the-moment this is. And I realize that he may dump me
next week for some rich bimbo off a yacht. But right now," she looked at Rafe's frowning countenance, "his current mood
aside, I think he likes me. And I think I...I like him, too. Why are you shaking your head like that, Char?"
"Love, Angie, you love him and you know it. And even if it is a little crazy, I think it's wonderful! It's so romantic."
Charlotte sighed, then threw her arms around Angela's neck and gave her one of her very happy hugs. There were tears in
her eyes as she brushed Angela's hair back from her face, a very motherly gesture. Charlotte sniffled.
"I'm going to miss you so much. And you absolutely have to invite me to the wedding. If that pirate of yours will go for a
formal ceremony, I want to be your maid of honor. Ginny wouldn't want to do it, it's too much hassle. But I'm sure she'd be
in your party."
"I'm here, Char, I can talk for myself."
"So what do you think of my decision, Gin? Do you think I'm crazy?"
Ginny shook her head, a serious expression in her green eyes.
"I think you're lucky. I saw Rafe's face when you went into the water. I don't think he would have come back up if he
couldn't have brought you with him. Congratulations, pal."
Ginny hugged Angela, both trying to hold back tears, not wanting to make fools of themselves. Charlotte was doing enough
of that for all of them. Angela pulled away and sniffed, surreptitiously wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. He hasn't exactly asked me to marry him yet."
"Ginny's right, Angie, he loves you so much. It's just a matter of time before he realizes it and asks you. Men can be so
dumb about things like love. It scares them, you know. Sometimes we women just have to force them to see what's right in
front of their faces."
"Before she launches into one of her 'all about men' speeches, Ange, you got any idea what he's planning on doing with us?
I mean, if you stay with him, what happens to us?"
"I plan to talk to him, convince him that my friends would never do anything to hurt the man I..."
She smiled at Charlotte, who looked like a squirrel waiting for a particularly juicy nut.
"Okay, the man I love. You happy now? Anyway, I think I can convince him to let the two of you go."
Angela looked again at the fierce visage of her lover. She gave her friends a sheepish grin.
"I wouldn't want to try to convince him that it's daylight right now, but as soon as he gets over whatever it is that's bothering
him, I'll have a talk with him."
Angela turned and looked as Rafe stood and jumped off the boat. He glared at the women and pointed in their direction.
"Stay there!"
His tone brooked no opposition. Angela turned back to her friends, her voice low for their ears only.
"Arf. Yes, master."
She put her hands in front of her and panted, imitating a dog begging. Her actions brought a round of giggles, and a
backward glare.
Rafe, Rat and Blade had a short, serious conversation on the dock. They looked toward the women several times, making it
clear that the topic of conversation was them. This made Angela and her two friends very nervous.
Seeming to reach some understanding, the men came to the edge of the dock and studied the three women in silence for
several seconds. Blade and Rafe assumed the same proud position, arms crossed over their chests, biceps bulging. Rat
looked repeatedly from the dock to Charlotte and back at the dock, so quickly that Angela thought he might get dizzy. Then
Rat put one foot on the Scarab and offered his hand to assist them from the boat.
When they were all safely on the dock, Rat stepped back to join Blade in flanking Rafe. With Angela standing between,
and slightly ahead of, her two friends, they looked like opposing armies meeting for a peace conference. Rafe was the first
to speak. His tone was instructional, as though he were giving orders at a board meeting.
"This is how it's gonna be till further notice. You," he pointed at Charlotte, making her eyes widen with apprehension, "will
be staying with Rat. I don't want to hear about any more 'gun-cleaning' accidents, or you'll answer to me. And you," this
time he jabbed his finger at Ginny. She slitted her eyes at him, her nostrils flaring, "are with Blade."
Blade grinned wickedly. Rafe looked at him and smiled knowingly.
"He can take care of himself."
Rafe cast his baleful gaze over the women, his voice becoming steel-edged.
"Your lives are in these men's hands. If they want to use you for shark bait, fine. They can do anything they want with you,
except turn you loose."
He narrowed his eyes, an ominous expression on his face.
"And if you stupid bitches ever try another stunt like the one you pulled today, you'll wish we'd left you out there to fry! Do
you understand?"
Throughout Rafe's imperious speech, Angela had held her tongue, thinking that it might get better as he went along. Now,
she was seeing red. She took a step toward Rafe, putting her within a foot of his body. Her hair flew as her chin rose, her
eyes spitting quicksilver-blue fire as they warred with his sherry gaze. Her friends, knowing the warning signals of a tirade,
each stepped closer to Angela giving her their support and protection. Charlotte looked heavenward and muttered, "Here
we come, Lord."
"You arrogant son-of-a-bitch! And I suppose I'm 'with' you till further notice?"
Rafe arched one eyebrow, his lopsided grin infuriating Angela, and nodded. She raised her hand and pointed at his face.
"Well, I've got news for you, Mr. Everybody-better-follow-my-orders-or-else, we are not the faithful bitches you seem to
think we are! A bowl of kibble and a nice place to sleep will not keep us happy. If you think you can just use us, then cast
us aside when you're done with us like so much garbage, you're wrong. I won't be trifled with!"
Rafe had begun to look angry during her speech, his eyebrows drawing together in that fierce frown they knew so well.
Suddenly his face broke into a quite handsome grin, taking everyone off-guard, even Rafe. He tilted his head, giving
Angela a quizzical look.
"Trifled with?"
He turned and looked at Blade, who was beginning to smile, then at Rat, who looked a little confused. Rafe's grin was
threatening to flare into a full-fledged smile.
"Trifled with. A bit dramatic, don't you think, sweetheart?"
Angela gave Charlotte a quick frown. Under her breath, she muttered, "You and your damn romance novels!" Then she
brought her chin back up, pride making her skin and eyes glow with inner fire.
"It's a perfectly good word. Not being in your vocabulary is definitely in its favor."
Crossing her arms over her chest in an unconscious imitation of Rafe, Angela looked down her nose at the pirates.
"If that is your only offer, I'm afraid my friends and I will have to decline."
Rafe gave her his shark smile. Angela felt a flutter of fear tickle the back of her throat. She swallowed, then angrily cleared
her throat. Rafe gazed nonchalantly at the jungle to the side of the dock, then brought his chocolate eyes back to rest on
Angela's face.
"I didn't make any offers, darlin'. I told you how it's gonna be. Get used to it. You see, things are a little different here on
my island than in your world."
His smooth, uninterested voice had disarmed Angela's warning system. Too late, she realized that his tone had been
deceptive, as his hands snaked out and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her hard against his body. His mouth was inches
from her own.
"On this island, I am King. What I say goes, no questions asked. There's no women's lib here, honey. Women have one use.
And we like to put 'em to it."
Rafe's lips came down on Angela's with punishing force, causing her knees to go slightly weak. Fear and anger vied for
attention in her mind. His fingers bruised her arms as he held her, drinking from her lips. Then he roughly pushed her away
from him. His smile was predatory and triumphant.
"You know where my room is. Get your butt up there. Your friends can stay with you until we're finished here."
He dismissively turned away, giving his attention to his men.
"Come on, let's go take a look at the booty."
Rafe stopped and slowly turned back toward the women, speaking in a voice so soft they had to strain to hear.
"Go. Now!"
Though still angry at his cavalier treatment of them, the women recognized the threat of certain doom in ignoring his
quietly issued order. Later, they would try to think of a better word for their exit from the presence of the pirates, but they
all knew that 'scurried' was the one that best fit.

                         Chapter Eleven
                                
Even though the vehemence in Rafe's order had caused them to run from him in fear, as soon as they were out of his
presence, Angela's courage returned. When the manor came into sight, she stopped and turned to be sure he hadn't followed
to see that they obeyed. Assured that they were safe for the moment, she gave vent to her anger by kicking a tree. At the last
minute, she remembered Ginny's show of anger the day before in Rafe's room and lessened the force of the kick to protect
her toes. It helped a little.
"Oh, that man makes me crazy! One minute he's saving my life like a prince, the next, he's Bluebeard himself. Go, stay,
sit...oh!"
Angela kicked the tree again, just for good measure. She tossed her sweat-dampened hair behind her shoulders, wishing she
could tie it back. Goaded on by her anger, she started peeling off layers of protective clothing. Defiantly, she tore the sleeve
from the silk shirt she'd taken from Rafe's armoire and, pulling her hair into a pony tail, used it to secure the blond mass at
her nape. Ginny cleared her throat.
"Ah, you wanna let us in on what you're doing, Ange?"
"I'm dropping all of this stuff so I won't die of sunstroke while I explore. All these trees should protect us well enough from
the sun. You gonna join me?"
Ginny shrugged and began adding to the growing pile of Rafe's discarded clothes. Charlotte looked confused.
"But, Angie, Rafe told us to go to his room. He'll get mad if we don't do what he says. And I, for one, do not like him when
he's angry."
Dressed now in her own white sundress, Angela looked around for something to do. She had no intention of going to Rafe's
room like a good little girl. She noticed a narrow, obviously little used, path that led from the side of the big house into the
jungle. She turned lightly blazing eyes on her friend.
"Do I care if he gets angry? No, I do not. I am not his property to be ordered around like a slave. If I feel like exploring, I'm
going to explore. Since I intend to live on this island, I think it would be intelligent to find out what else might live here."
Ginny smiled.
"Besides, you kind-of want to piss him off, right?"
"You're damn right! He is so arrogant. Sometimes I'd like to just grab him by that arrogant neck of his," she raised her
hands and made a tightening motion, "and squeeze till..."
Ginny raised an eyebrow in disbelieving question. Angela shrugged and dropped her hands in defeat.
"Okay, till he turned slightly blue."
They all laughed at that. By now, any unnecessary clothing had been shed. Angela started off up the unknown path,
assuming her friends would follow. The path was so narrow that they had to go single file. Ginny gave Charlotte, who was
still worrying over the advisability of angering Rafe, a little push to get her moving, then fell in behind her.
After they had walked for what Charlotte would have sworn was at least a mile, the path opened into a small clearing.
Angela examined the open space, then moved some suspicious looking bushes at one side to reveal the mouth of a cave.
Ginny and Charlotte moved around to flank Angela and look into the cave. Charlotte gave her a worried frown.
"You're not actually thinking of going in there, are you?"
Angela studied the ground at the mouth of the cave. It had been trod on fairly recently. She stepped closer and peered into
the gloom. It didn't look like a very deep cave, not that she knew much about caves. She gave Charlotte a reassuring smile.
"It's been used recently, Char. See the footprints? Maybe they use it to hide their booty. Wouldn't you like to see what
they've got?"
Charlotte gave her a wistful smile, remembering Rat's room.
"I've seen what they consider booty. Rat's room is full of it. I'd call most of it junk. And you have no idea what might be in
there. Who knows what might be indigenous to this island, Angie. With our luck of late, we'll disturb a grizzly bear in
heat."
Ginny spoke up.
"No, we left him back on the dock, remember? I'm with you, Ange. Let's see what they've got. It's that, or turn around."
Angela looked back down the path they had just traversed. She shook her head.
"I do not intend to go back without exploring something. The path ends here and the cave entrance was hidden, so this must
be something important."
She straightened her shoulders, attempting to shift her ponytail off her back. It just laid there, wet and limp. Angela snorted
with disgust.
"I swear I'm going to cut this mop someday. I'm going in. You can come with me or wait here, it's up to you."
Ginny surveyed the mouth of the cave.
"It looks like there was something heavy dragged in there. Probably a while ago, since the ruts are pretty much covered."
Charlotte shivered.
"Probably a dead body."
Charlotte's worried frown caused her two friends to chuckle. Angela put her arm around Charlotte's shoulders. She smiled
at Ginny over Charlotte's head and winked.
"It's ok, Char, you can wait here for us."
Charlotte turned wide eyes on Angela as her mouth dropped open.
"Alone? Uh-uh, no way. I'd rather go in there and be eaten alive with you than stay out here alone. I think friends should
stay together."
Angela smiled, nodded.
"Then let's go."
They headed into the cave, walking slowly and cautiously. Once inside, they paused to let their eyes adjust to the
semi-darkness of the cave. Several yards into the cave, signs of recent human use began to appear.
On one side, a large, and very old, flag hung attached by daggers to the cave wall. On its black silk was emblazoned a red
skull-and-crossbones, the much-feared symbol of pirates of old. Ginny snorted.
"Cute. Think that's supposed to scare the rats?"
Angela stared in awe at the tattered flag. It was frightening, a blood-red image of death. She wondered what stories it could
tell if only it could speak. She shrugged.
"Probably. At least let them know who's King Rat around here. It looks old enough to have been on a real pirate ship."
"As opposed to a fake pirate ship, like they use?"
"You know what I mean."
Charlotte's high, tense voice cut in.
"Rats? What rats?"
Angela laughed softly.
"Don't worry, Char, I haven't seen much sign of anything alive in here."
Farther into the cave, another silk tapestry adorned the cave wall. This tapestry was also old, possibly older than the pirate
flag. It, too, was black silk, the face of an angry wolf stitched on it in red. The wolf was growling, its bared teeth dripping
blood. The eyes looked so real, it was eerie. Angela thought with a shiver that she had seen those eyes, alive and glaring, in
Rafe's face.
Above the wolf the name "Devane" was stitched in gold, and below it something in Latin. Angela's limited knowledge of
that language served her well now. The legend read 'Wolf's Blood--Ruler Of All He Surveys.'
Angela stared at the cloth in wonder. She reached out and touched the cool surface, imagining that she could feel the years
held in the cloth. She spoke in a soft, awed voice.
"It must be Rafe's family crest."
"Figures. A rabid wolf."
"No, he's not rabid, Gin. He's strong and proud, fiercely warning everyone not to cross him."
"You got it bad, pal."
Angela could feel the blush spread across her face. Giving her head a little shake, she continued exploring the cave. She
tried to ignore the spider webs beginning to appear on the walls and ceilings. She didn't think they were deserted, but she
had no desire to examine them more closely to find out. There was a turn up ahead. Angela decided they would see what
was around that turn and then leave. This place was getting a little too spooky.
Around the corner, the cave opened into one large room, piled floor to ceiling with crates. Some were so large Angela
wondered how the pirates had gotten them in there. Some were metal, some wooden. She stepped closer to examine one
more closely. It had 'Property of U. S. Government' stenciled on its side. Angela circled the crate, reading as she went. The
word, 'Explosives', stenciled on the back, jumped out at her, making her take a step back. Were all of these boxes filled
with explosives, she wondered. And if so, what was their purpose?
The lid had been loosened on one of the crates. Curiosity overriding common sense, Angela started to lift the lid to get a
look at the contents. A soft, slightly annoyed voice made her almost climb onto the crate in surprise.
"I wouldn't. Unless you know what you're doing with this stuff, it can be hazardous to your health."
All three women turned as one to see Rafe casually leaning back against the wall of the cave, his arms crossed over his
chest. Charlotte said, "Uh-oh," under her breath. Angela regained her composure and, tilting her head to one side, spoke
very nonchalantly to him.
"And I suppose you know what you're doing?"
His hot gaze caught her eyes and held them. Angela could read anger in that chocolate glare. She straightened, tossing her
head and arching an eyebrow in rebellion. Rafe ground his teeth together, making the muscles in his jaw jump. Slowly, he
moved away from the wall. A nasty smile spread across his face like an oil spill on the ocean. As he spoke, he stalked
toward Angela, completely ignoring her companions, who grudgingly moved out of his way.
"Angel, I always know what I'm doing. This is the coolest spot on the island, so it's a good place to store things that don't
like the heat. If some things get too hot, they explode."
He narrowed his eyes, giving her a meaningful look.
"Some with very unpleasant results."
The uneasiness in her eyes told him that she had gotten his message. Relaxing a little, Rafe surveyed the destructive mass
around them. His expression softened, his tone following suit.
"This is where we store all of the explosives. Some we piecemeal out to rid us of unwanted evidence of our presence.
Others are here in case we ever have to leave."
Angela's eyes widened in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
Rafe narrowed his eyes, his tone deadly.
"If they ever come for us, try to take Blacksands from me, there won't be an island to take. This place is wired to blow at
my command."
In one quick step, he had Angela in his power, her upper arms crushed painfully in his grip, her body pressed firmly against
his unyielding frame. She gasped and her eyes flew to his, a move she instantly regretted. His eyes were flaming, tightly
leashed passion evident in the tension of his jaw and the barely perceptible shaking of his body.
"Nobody takes what is mine, Angel. And nobody disobeys my orders and gets away with it. I should punish you. I should..."
Angela didn't realize how she was looking at him at that moment. How she was watching his mouth as he spoke, waiting
for him to kiss her. She had gone limp in his arms, her eyes half-closed, her lips slightly parted. With her resistance gone,
his arms just naturally wrapped around her, his iron grip releasing her and beginning to knead her back. She was so
desirable it made him ache with need and forget what he was saying. Her tongue slid slowly across her lips, and that moist
surface beckoned him with irresistible force. Crushing her to him, his lips joined with hers in a dance as old as time.
When Rafe first grabbed her, his fingers digging into her flesh, Angela had been frightened. He was so strong, so virile. He
seemed capable of just about anything, including strangling the life from her body. The fear, so raw, so alive, had touched
something inside her mind. Some primitive instinct was trying to take over, to bend her to his will. Angela knew that she
should try to resist, her pride demanded it. But, as always, she was honest with herself. She didn't want to resist. She
wanted to give in to this magnificent man, to feel him overpower her with his body. And with his heart.
As his lips touched hers, Angela forgot where they were, even who they were. All that mattered at this moment was his
body pressed so wonderfully against her own, his lips promising ecstasy, his tongue invading her mouth and stealing her
breath away. Her body began to throb with the memory of another invasion, an invasion she wanted Rafe to repeat now. Of
their own volition, her hips thrust hard against him, bringing a groan from deep in his throat. He pushed her back against
the explosives, lifted her hips so that she was balanced on the edge of the crate. He turned his face toward Ginny and
Charlotte, not really seeing them. In a breathless growl, he ordered, "Get back to the house. Go!"
Rafe was vaguely aware of the echo of their footsteps quickly leaving the cave. He nodded as he pulled his shirt over his
head, dropping it to the cave floor. Angela was bracing herself with her hands on the edge of the crate. Her face was
flushed, her wet hair sticking to the skin at her throat and shoulder. Rafe smiled and pulled her into his arms, cradling her
against his chest like a baby. As soon as he touched her, Angela began kissing the skin on his neck and chest, oblivious to
his movements.
It was sweet torture trying to remember where he was going while Angel set his senses on fire with her beautiful lips and
tongue. Rafe picked his way through the crates to a small, natural opening in the back of the cave. He ducked through it
and into the smaller cave that he had discovered by accident while exploring the caves of his island so long ago.
The womb of rock had a skylight, a natural opening in the ceiling that allowed a small ray of sunlight to brighten the room.
In the middle of the small cave was a pool of bubbling water, a pond fed by some underground river. Rafe knew it was
shallow, only two or three feet at its deepest, so his Angel would be safe.
He placed her on her feet, keeping his hands on her shoulders until he was sure that her legs were going to support her.
When he pulled away from her, she moaned in question. Rafe smiled and lightly touched his lips to hers, intending to give
her a short kiss of reassurance. Her hot tongue slid over his lips and was almost his undoing. He groaned and pulled her
against his body, holding her head still, effectively keeping her from kissing him anywhere until he could regain his
control.
Angela's breath was coming in short gasps. She thought this might be the way people breathed when they were having a
heart attack. Her cheek rested on Rafe's shoulder, his arms holding her secure. She would never have believed the intensity
of the throbbing in her body if she hadn't experienced it. With each heartbeat, her stomach fluttered, her thighs clenching
and sending shudders through her entire body. She wasn't sure how much more she could stand.
When he had regained at least some of his composure, Rafe stepped away from Angela again and pulled her dress over her
head. She followed his lead and stepped out of her panties and shoes in record time. While she enjoyed watching the play
of muscles across his back and shoulders, he sat on a large rock to remove his boots, then stood and pulled off his pants.
When he would have taken her in his arms again, Angel put her hand on his chest and held him at arms length. To his
raised eyebrow, she said, "let me look at you."
Rafe released his breath in a loud rush that echoed through the cave. Angela took a quick look at her surroundings. This
cave was smaller than the one that held the explosives. The ceiling was higher, rising four or five stories above their heads.
It shown with bits of phosphorescence. In the center of the roof, sun spilled through a natural skylight. This was truly a
beautiful place. Perhaps a magical place, where time could be reversed, sending them back to a time of innocence and
fantasy. She smiled. A time when pirates roamed the seven seas, kidnapping fair maidens and taking them for their own.
Angela looked at the pirate standing so proudly before her. He was magnificent. His muscles were pumped to the breaking
point, his skin wet with sweat. He held his hands clenched into fists at his sides, restraint taking a constant toll on him.
Everything about him was hard, from the bullish muscles of his neck to his bulging calves. And in the center of it all, the
evidence of his fierce desire to claim her stood rigid, visibly throbbing. Angela reached toward him, her trembling hand at
waist level.
Rafe had kept his eyes on her face as she perused his body, knowing that if he looked at her beautiful, naked body, he
wouldn't be able to restrain himself and let her satisfy her curiosity. When he felt her hand touch his lower abdomen,
slowly sliding downward, he closed his eyes and let his head drop back. As her fingertips slid along his length, he sucked
air through his teeth, trying to tighten muscles already strained to the point of pain, to think about something else, anything
to help maintain his control. It wasn't working. He knew if she continued her torturous stroking, this encounter would be
over before it had even begun.
Rafe grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly, running his hands over her hips and cupping the gentle
curve of her rear. He slid his hands up her back and into her hair, grunting his disapproval when he encountered the tie of
her ponytail. He made quick work of removing it, thinking there was something about it that should make him angry, but
he was too caught up in the moment to give it more than a fleeting thought.
Putting one foot behind her leg, Rafe eased Angel backward. He held her weight on his arms, lowering her slowly to the
ground as he claimed her mouth again and again.
Angela gasped as the cool water of the hidden pool stroked her back, then engulfed her sides. She laid her head back into
the wonderful liquid. It was about six inches deep and so cool it almost took her breath away. As Rafe lowered his body
onto hers, she let the water run into her palms, then splashed it onto his back. He tossed his hair back with a loud "Ah".
Rafe looked down at his Angel. Her hair was slowly spreading out in the water, a beautiful golden blanket. He braced his
weight on his elbows. The ground beneath them was hard-packed sand. It gave slightly as he adjusted his weight, settling
more completely into the cradle formed by Angel's raised knees. Her eyes shown a more beautiful blue than the ocean at
high noon. The contrast of the cool water from her hands flowing down his back and sides, and her hot welcoming body
beneath him drove him wild.
He reached for her legs, but she raised them herself, wrapping them around his waist. With a growl, he plunged into her
hot, wet sheath. Angela gasped and Rafe thought he might have hurt her, but one look at her face told him that she was not
in pain. Her eyes were closed, her pale cheeks deeply flushed. As he watched, her mouth parted slightly with a sigh of
pleasure. He withdrew almost completely, then thrust more deeply, over and over until she held all of him tightly within
her body.
Her cry of ecstasy was the song of angels to Rafe's ears. She sighed his name, running her fingernails down his back,
arching her hips to meet each thrust. Rafe swore to himself that he would go slowly, give her plenty of time. He dropped
his head to her breasts, licking and sucking each nipple until its peak hardened. He kissed her swollen mouth, swallowing
her sighs, groaning his passion against her lips.
When he looked into her eyes, Rafe saw such softness there that it scared him. The strong emotion caused him to lose a
little of his passion. He stopped thrusting, letting the feel of her make him fully hard again.
Angela sensed his hesitation, although she had no idea what had caused it. She ran her fingers gently through his hair,
pressed her other hand against his back.
"Is something wrong?"
Rafe looked deeply into her eyes. She couldn't read his expression, but his tone was so fierce it frightened her.
"Angel, tell me what you feel."
Angela blushed, the rosy glow spreading clear to her chest. Rafe chuckled.
"Not what you feel in your body, honey, I understand that."
He placed his fingers on the soft skin between her breasts, giving her the most intense look she had ever seen.
"What do you feel in here?"
Angela's eyes filled with tears as she realized what he meant. She took his face between her hands, his long sideburns
caressing her palms, and gazed deeply into his eyes.
"I love you, Rafe."
He closed his eyes, pulling away and violently shaking his head, his long black hair flying in defiance.
"No, dammit, don't love me! Want me, need me, but don't love me. Love kills!"
His fierce expression frightened Angela, but the pain in his eyes broke her heart. She took his face into her hands again,
holding him firmly so that he would have to look into her eyes.
"Rafe, listen to me. I do want you, and I think I will grow to need you, if I don't already. But whether you like it or not, I
love you."
The tears were flowing freely from her eyes now. They spilled down her face and joined with the water cooling her body.
Rafe began to look angry again. Angela gripped his sideburns, flashing anger of her own in response to his.
"Dammit, I don't take your orders! If I want to love you, I'm damn well going to do it! I don't know why I had to fall in love
with an arrogant pirate but I did, and nothing you say or do is going to change that so...get used to it!"
Angela wrapped her arms around Rafe's neck and hugged him. She didn't realize that she also tightened her legs around his
waist until she heard his sharply indrawn breath. She remembered something she had read in Cosmopolitan magazine about
strengthening muscles to improve lovemaking. Curious, she tightened her thigh muscles and felt a shiver run through Rafe's
body in response. He groaned and began slowly thrusting.
Angela could feel that wonderful tension beginning inside her body. She tensed her thighs again. Rafe thrust into her so
hard that it almost hurt. She would have liked to continue exercising this newfound power over him, but she was losing all
conscious thought. Her body began to tingle as Rafe thrust faster and faster, his hot breath fanning her face and neck.
Angela closed her eyes and gave herself up to the feeling taking control of her. The now familiar sparks ignited behind her
eyelids as her muscles tightened convulsively, spasming with uncontrollable pleasure. She screamed his name as the
spasms reached their peak, exploding with a sensation so near pain that more tears came to her eyes.
Breaking through the fog of pleasure clouding her brain Angela could hear Rafe speaking to her, his voice a breathy growl.
"Say it now, Angel."
Instinctively, she knew what he needed to hear.
"I love you, Rafe."
Vaguely, she felt Rafe thrust one last time. His scream of "Angel!" caused several small rocks to roll from their perch on
the wall of the cave. The echoes of his passion still sounding, Rafe rolled onto his side out of the water, pulling Angela
with him, and fell fast asleep.

                         Chapter Twelve
                                
Angela slept nestled in the safety of Rafe's arms. She awoke to find him looking down at her, his head resting on his elbow.
He was smiling softly.
"I think you're hungry, honey."
She turned onto her back, stretching like a satisfied cat. A soft rumble echoed through the cave. Wide-eyed, Angela looked
to Rafe for an explanation. As he began to laugh, she realized that the sound was coming from her own body. Her stomach
was growling. Moaning and turning beet-red in embarrassment, she hid her face against his chest. Unfortunately, her
stomach didn't care how embarrassed she was, it wanted attention immediately and intended to keep up the racket until it
was appeased.
Rafe stood, pulling Angela to her feet in front of him. He forced himself not to look at her nude body because he knew that
he wouldn't be able to resist another tumble if he did. Smiling, he stepped away from her, found his clothes and began
dressing.
Angela watched him for a minute, enjoying the play of his muscles as he went about the mundane chore of dressing. She
doubted he knew how gorgeous he was. A wry smile played across her lips. 'He's an arrogant pirate,' she thought as she
dressed. 'Of course he knows how good-looking he is.'
When they were both dressed, Rafe took her hand to lead the way out of the cave. Angela loved the feel of his strong, warm
hand grasping hers. She was a little saddened when they stepped from the cave to the cold light of day. Their sojourn in the
fantasy world of lovers was coming to an end. Angela silently vowed that it wouldn't be their last.
They didn't speak as they walked the path to Rafe's mansion, each lost in their own thoughts. Angela was certain that Rafe
loved her, or was at least on his way to loving her. He wanted to possess her and she thought that was a good start. She
would have to let that be enough until he was ready to give her more.
Angela was sure that sometime in his life Rafe had been terribly hurt by someone he loved. It had made him afraid of love,
to love or be loved. She was going to have to get around that fear if she ever wanted him to love her completely. He was
such an enigma. It was not going to be easy getting under the protective armor that he had built around himself, but she was
determined to do so. She loved him with all her heart, and she was willing to fight anyone, even him, to win his love.
Rafe's thoughts were also of love, but they were much blacker thoughts. All that insidious emotion had ever given him was
pain and loneliness. He'd done well all these years without it. He had the friendship of his men, the bodies of the local girls
to warm his bed when he felt the urge, so what did he need with an emotion that had proven to be destructive and
treacherous?
Angel squeezed his hand. Rafe looked back at her and she smiled at him, her face alight with happiness. He returned her
smile, her mood infecting him. No, he didn't need love. But did he want it? And was it too late anyway? Had this blonde
vixen already stolen his heart when he wasn't looking? Rafe shook his head. He just didn't know, didn't have enough
experience with soft feelings or nice girls. She had been a virgin, for God's sake! How much nicer could you get?
Rafe remembered how she had come to him in the cave. How she had wrapped her hot body around him and, with her
strong muscles and her soft words, taken him to heights he had never reached with any other woman. She'd been no virgin
then, she had been a woman loving her man. His woman. Though he might not be too sure about this love thing yet, Rafe
was absolutely certain that he wanted her for his own. He set his jaw, feeling his neck muscles tense. No other man would
ever touch her and live!
When they reached the house, Rafe turned to Angela and wrapped his arms around her. He brushed her lips with his,
enjoying the instant response she gave him, her head tilting to one side, her lips parting so that he could better taste her
nectar. He gently pulled away from her, keeping hold of one of her hands.
"The back door goes into the kitchen. Tell Cook I said to feed you and your friends. Just ignore his bitching. He's a
crotchety old coot, but he's a great cook."
Shyly, Angela asked, "What about you?"
"I've got a couple of things that I need to check on. Tell him to make an early dinner and send a couple plates up to my
room."
He chuckled softly.
"We'll probably be able to hear him squawking clear out to the dock. Oh, and check on your friends. I want them in their
rooms or with their men so I know they're not getting into trouble."
Angela looked at the ground, held his hand when he would have released her and left.
"Rafe, about Ginny and Char."
She turned hopeful eyes to his face, and was met with a hard stare. His voice was wary and slightly frosty.
"What about them?"
"I've already told them that I intend to stay here with you. I also said that I would talk to you about letting them go." His
stoic manner made Rafe's answer clear before Angela had even finished asking the question. Rather testily, she said,
"Would you please listen to me before you make up your mind?"
Angela tried to restrain her anger, if only for her friends' sake.
"There is no reason for you to hold them prisoner any longer. Since I'm going to stay here, they won't say anything to
anyone. They would never do anything that might endanger me. Are you listening to me?"
Her temper was about to erupt. Rafe had assumed a bored expression that was really getting on her nerves. Now he looked
at her, raised one eyebrow.
"Yeah, I hear you. But you're wasting your time. They know too much. They may or may not be able to lead people here,
but they could give descriptions, making it difficult for us to function on the mainland. They stay."
He crossed his arms over his chest. Angela recognized that as his stubborn stance. She tossed her hair and glared at him.
"But I just got through telling you that they wouldn't do that."
The stubborn set of his jaw didn't lessen one iota. Angela resisted the urge to slap his arrogant face.
"So, what is going to happen to them? Are you going to keep them here as playthings for your men?"
Rafe gave a heavy sigh, uncrossing his arms and dropping them to his sides. He knew he had to try to explain, but the fire
in Angel's eyes told him it wasn't going to be easy. He laid his hands lightly on her shoulders.
"Angel, look, I've got to protect my men. Chicks talk and..."
She shook his hands from her shoulders, stepping back. Rafe's anger began to flare, responding to her fire. His hands
clenched into fists at his sides and he straightened, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah, they're gonna stay here and make themselves useful. Everybody on this island has a use, nobody rides for free. And
the only use that I can see for any of you is on your backs."
Before she could stop herself, Angela cracked her hand sharply across Rafe's cheek. She gasped, realizing what she had
done even as his fist whipped into the air. He held it at his shoulder, his whole body vibrating with anger. Her terrified eyes
met his. Although the fury she expected to see was there, the tiny flash of pain surprised her. His breath coming in fast,
shallow gasps, he took a step back and dropped his fist to his side, slowly unclenching his hand. His face lost all
expression, and he looked at her with cold, dead eyes. His voice could have come from a tomb.
"Fine! Tomorrow, someone will be here to take the crewman from your yacht off our hands. If you hate the
accommodations so much, I'm sure we can get a good price for the lot of you."
With that, he turned and walked away, his back as straight and hard as a steel rod.
Angela called after him, saying his name softly, wishing she could erase the last ten minutes. He didn't hesitate, didn't even
seem to hear her, just kept walking until the jungle enveloped him.
Though she tried to again find the fire of anger to buoy her spirits, all Angela could remember was the hurt in his eyes, the
look of betrayal. She knew she had made a mistake, one that might cost her the man she loved. Sitting on the stairs leading
to the back door of the manor, she dropped her face into her hands and cried.
That was how Rat found her when he came out the back door, looking for Rafe. He stood quietly for a minute, not sure
what to do with a crying woman, but Rat had a tender heart. He didn't think anyone should have to hurt alone. He sat down
beside her on the stairs and gingerly placed his arm around her shoulders. Angela jumped and looked up at him,
disappointment immediately showing in her tear-filled eyes. Rat smiled and pulled a little. That was all the encouragement
Angela needed to collapse against his chest and sob her heart out. Rat patted her back, trying to think of the best way to
comfort her. Talking was the best way Rat knew to handle something that was bothering him.
"Hey, it's ok. Do you want to talk about it?"
Angela sniffed, determined to stop making a fool of herself in front of a stranger. Getting the worst of it under control, she
pulled away from Rat and stared out at the jungle behind the house. She shook her head, looking desolate. Her voice was
high and a little broken.
"There's really nothing to talk about."
"Sure there is, or you wouldn't be cryin'. What did Rafe do?"
Angela looked at Rat, trying to judge his intentions. His face was an open book. There was no hostility there, just curiosity.
And empathy. Rat smiled encouragingly.
"Last I heard, you were with him and I know he can be kinda mean sometimes."
Angela remembered how Rafe had almost flattened Rat on the yacht for sneaking up on him. She smiled, knowing Rat had
seen his mean side.
"He said that Ginny and Char have to stay here. Even though I'm going to stay of my own free will, he won't let them go. He
said that we have to be useful and he can only think of one use for us. I told him that I love him, Rat, how could he say that
to me?"
The sobs threatened to overtake her again and she took several deep, shaky breaths in an effort to control them. Rat spoke
very softly.
"Do you really love him?"
Angela just nodded, afraid saying the words would break the precarious damn she had placed on her emotions. Rat looked
off into the jungle.
"Then ya gotta understand him. Rafe isn't like anybody else I know. He acts real hard, but deep down, he's hurtin'. Has been
for as long as I've known him. I'm not sure why. Once, when he was real drunk, he told me he'd loved his old man, but he
killed him. Some kind of fight, Rafe had to defend himself. Sounded like his dad was a real bastard."
Rat turned to Angela. The love of a true friend shone in his eyes.
"See, I don't think Rafe's ever been loved. He's not too sure about it. Probably doesn't see what it's good for. It hasn't done
him much good."
He shrugged, not sure if he was helping. A soft smile touched his lips.
"You don't need to worry about Charlotte. I won't let anything bad happen to her. And Blade isn't as mean as he seems. I've
never seen him be mean to a girl. He just likes to...you know, have a good time. I'll keep an eye on him and your friend,
make sure they don't kill each other, ok?"
Angela gave him a sad smile, slowly shook her head.
"It doesn't matter, Rat. Rafe said that he was going to sell us to someone tomorrow. Oh, Rat, I ruined everything!"
Rat stiffened but Angela didn't notice as she started on a new round of tears. Gently, he took her by the shoulders and
pulled so that she would look at him. Sniffling, Angela calmed in response to the determination in Rat's voice and eyes.
"Rafe's not gonna sell you or your friends, you got that? I don't know what's goin' on in his head, but I know he doesn't want
to do somethin' that stupid. And he won't 'cause I won't let him. I gotta go find him and talk to him."
He smiled and tilted his head toward the door.
"Why don't you go inside and join Charlotte and Ginny for dinner? It should be about ready by now. They're in the dining
room. In this door, through the kitchen, ignore Cook, and you're there. Ok?"
Angela nodded, a flicker of hope taking shape in her mind. Rat was Rafe's friend. Maybe he'd listen to Rat. She smiled as
Rat headed the way Rafe had gone. Maybe there was still a chance for her and Rafe after all. With a lighter heart, Angela
headed into the house to get some dinner.

                        Chapter Thirteen
                                
Rat found Rafe standing at the edge of the dock, staring down at the ultramarine surface of the ocean. He stood next to
Rafe for several minutes, deciding exactly how to breach a subject he knew might send Rafe into a rage. Rafe didn't like his
decisions questioned.
"Rafe?"
Rafe glanced his way, then returned his brooding gaze to the water.
"Yeah."
His voice was soft. Rat could hear the pain there.
"I just talked to your lady back at the house. She's real upset."
Rafe gave a slight snort of disgust.
"Tough."
As usual when Rafe was in a bad mood, he didn't want to talk much, keeping his answers to the bare minimum. Rat figured
he might as well plunge ahead since he probably couldn't make Rafe's mood any worse.
"She told me what you said about selling her and her friends to Rajid. You didn't mean that, did you?"
In a hard, cold voice Rafe said, "Yeah. Those bitches are bad news."
Rat stiffened, not liking Rafe referring to Charlotte as a bitch. Rat didn't get angry often, but he knew what it felt like, and
it was coming. He looked out at the water, breathing deeply, trying to stay calm.
"Rafe, I like Charlotte. Blade's real happy with Ginny."
Turning angry eyes to Rat, Rafe interrupted in a sneering tone.
"Good for you. You got a point?"
The anger had arrived. Rat usually slumped, his shoulders seeming permanently bowed. Now he straightened to his full
height, a good five inches taller than Rafe. His stance mirrored Rafe's aggression.
"Look, if the blonde is giving you trouble, fine, you do what you want with her. But you do it to her, not to Charlotte. The
other two are not your problem. Me and Blade decide what happens to them."
Rafe's eyes were blazing ebony fire. Deep down, Rat knew that he should leave him alone, but anger, born of some
unexplainable fear, had Rat in a strangle-hold. He was not going to let Rafe send Charlotte away. Rafe's voice raised slowly
as he gritted out, "Who the hell do you think you're talking to, boy?"
Rat's yell mirrored Rafe's.
"I know who I'm talking to. I'm talking to a friend who's got a real problem with a chick. So deal with it, but don't mess
with me and what's mine. You go ahead and make whatever stupid move you..."
Rafe's fist slammed into Rat's jaw, sending him sprawling flat on his back on the dock. Before Rat could even figure out
how he got there, Rafe was on top of him, his knees straddling Rat's chest, with one hand on his throat. Normally, that
would have been the end of the fight, and they both knew it. But this time Rafe was threatening something that really
meant a lot to Rat. Admittedly losing his mind, Rat punched Rafe just below his eye, knocking Rafe to the dock beside
him. Rat regained his feet and turned to face Rafe. Rafe was coming at him, both fists raised, pure fury evident in his every
move.
Rat watched his fists, knowing what power lay in those near-steel bludgeons. That was his undoing. Rafe's boot unerringly
found its mark, catching Rat hard in the groin, lifting him into the air to land on his knees, retching. Thankfully, he hadn't
eaten dinner yet, so he didn't totally disgrace himself. Not that Rat cared. At that moment, he would have been perfectly
happy to die if it meant the pain would stop.
Rafe grabbed Rat by the hair, pulling his head back to deliver another blow. The tears of pain in Rat's eyes stopped him.
Rafe released him, letting Rat's head drop back to his chest. The impetus sent Rat forward onto the ground. He rolled to a
fetal position, cradling the damaged area and moaning softly. Rafe stood over him like a wolf guarding its prey, his fists
clenched at his side so hard they showed white. He sucked in great gulps of air, trying to exhale his anger.
"Feel better now?"
Rafe turned sharply toward the voice to find Blade leaning against a tree, calmly cleaning his fingernails with one of his
daggers. Rafe took a belligerent step in Blade's direction.
"You next?"
Blade straightened, standing away from the tree. His eyes showed little emotion, but someone who knew him well, as Rafe
did, could see a spark of anger there.
"No, man, I just wondered if beatin' on somebody when somethin's botherin' ya makes you feel better. I bet it made your
daddy feel great."
Rafe flew at the tree, only to find that Blade was no longer there. Silver flashed by his face to embed itself in the tree next
to his head. Rafe turned to find Blade several feet from him, standing between himself and Rat. Blade's eyes narrowed,
glowing almost as silver as the knife he held threateningly in his hand.
"Fists aren't my thing, Rafe, and I don't think you want to mess with me unless we're both in a bleedin' mood. Rat's right,
man, you've got a problem with that pretty blonde piece. I think she scares you. I can dig that. It happens to us all. But I
think it sucks that you're takin' it out on your friends. That ain't like you, man!"
Blade's impassioned words were working their way into Rafe's anger-dulled mind. He looked at Rat, still disabled on the
ground, and remembered the times he had remained on the floor where his father had left him, the pain in his body and
heart overpowering him. Had his father's anger stemmed from the loss of a woman, maybe even a woman he had loved?
And was he, Rafe, repeating the pattern? Striking out at the people he loved because they were there?
A dull ache began to spread from his stomach to the rest of his body as Rafe examined his recent actions. Maybe Rat had
come on a little strong, Rafe smiled, thinking maybe Rat was falling for the dark-haired wench and it had caused him to
lose his mind temporarily, but Rafe knew that the beating he had just given Rat was over the line. Rafe took a step toward
Rat and Blade raised his knife. Rafe's sherry eyes met Blade's suspicious grey gaze. Blade could see that the anger had left
Rafe. He slipped his dagger into its sheath behind his back and, nodding, took a step back.
Rafe knelt next to Rat, who still lay in a fetal position, although he had stopped moaning. Rafe placed his hand on his
friend's shoulder. Rat cautiously lifted his head and looked at Rafe. Rat's hair all but covered his face and he looked like an
unkempt sheepdog. Smiling down at his friend, Rafe sat back on his haunches.
"Sorry, Rat. You got a mouth on you, boy."
Rat winced, gave Rafe a tentative smile. Rafe sighed, shrugged.
"I lost it, man. I don't know what the hell's happenin' to me! Some chick falls for me and I lose my mind. Damn it!"
Rafe stood and offered his hand to Rat. Rat rolled to his back and, moaning, accepted the help up. Though the pain had
subsided, he still felt like he was recovering from the worst flu he'd ever had. Suddenly, Blade's words registered in Rat's
mind and he turned to glare at his knife-wielding friend.
"You were here the whole time! Why didn't you stop him?"
Blade smiled a rather wicked smile, and shrugged.
"He needed to work a little of it off before he was gonna listen to anybody. You were the one who stepped in it so I figured
I'd let you be the one to take it. To a point."
Rat was incredulous, his mouth falling open as Blade spoke.
"What point?"
Blade truly smiled now, and Rafe found it contagious.
"I wouldn't've let him kill you."
"Thanks a lot, buddy!"
"You're welcome."
Rat started mumbling 'with friends like you...', and Rafe and Blade knew he was going to be all right. Blade turned to their
leader.
"So what ya gonna do about the chick?"
Rafe shook his head.
"I'm not sure, man. I guess I'll try to get her out of my blood. I don't need the hassle, you know? If that doesn't work, I guess
I'll have to marry her."
Blade raised his eyebrows in surprise. Marriage was one thing that had never occurred to him. He doubted Rafe could get
someone who had made him lose his temper like that on Rat 'out of his blood'. Since Rafe rarely said anything he didn't
mean, he would probably end up getting hitched to the chick.
Blade tipped his head, for the first time in his life giving the idea of marriage some serious thought. Maybe it wouldn't be
exactly the kiss of death to be married. That red-headed firebrand would be a grand possession. He wondered if she'd want
kids. He'd always wanted to continue the family line, just hadn't found the right woman yet. Blade's eyes flew open wide
and, with a shake of his head, he whispered, "whoa!".
Rafe looked at Blade, eyebrow raised in question. In a slightly desperate tone, Blade said, "Man, try to think of something
else, ok? Chicks always do things together."
Rafe threw back his head and laughed, the last of the battle tension leaving him. He slapped Blade on the back, threw his
other arm around Rat and headed up the path to the house.
"Come on, men, let's go see what our little ladies are up to."

                        Chapter Fourteen
                                
The dinner that the grumbling Cook laid out on the dining room table was a veritable feast. It began with a salad full of bits
of fish, the main course was prime rib with new potatoes and asparagus in Hollandaise sauce, and for dessert--Pears
Flambe'. Angela and her two friends gaped at each other as each course was presented to them. They all complimented the
cook as he returned to the kitchen, praise that was met with more grumbling about 'fixing meals at all times of the day and
night, no concern for an old man's arthritic bones' and so on.
Angela filled Ginny and Charlotte in on her current disagreement with Rafe, leaving out a few of the more unpleasant
details. She didn't think they really needed to know his opinion of their uses, or that she had lost her temper and slapped
him. Charlotte was predictably livid over the news of their continued confinement, carrying on about the FBI, kidnapping,
false imprisonment until Ginny said, "Bull!"
They turned to her in surprise, Charlotte actually stopping to take a breath before responding.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said 'Bull'. You don't want to leave this place any more than either of us do. We all want to get to know more about these
guys. Hell, you're probably half in love with Rat already. After all, you keep telling us how nice he's been to you. And
Angie admitted that she's crazy about Rafe. So why all the bitching?"
Charlotte looked slightly miffed, stabbing a pear with great gusto. Angela smiled at Ginny, raising her eyebrows.
"And what about you, Gin, do you want to get to know Blade better?"
Since Ginny rarely blushed, her doing so now was answer enough. Angela realized that in their own unique way, the three
pirates had cast their spells over herself and her friends. She wondered if they would all live to regret falling under those
spells.
Charlotte's voice dropped to a loud whisper. She leaned toward Angela.
"Angie, did you really do it in that cave?"
Ginny gave a disgusted snort, rolling her eyes heavenward, but she leaned closer to Angela, showing her interest in the
subject. Angela blushed furiously, giving a quick little nod.
"Actually, not right there. There's this little room behind the main cave."
Her voice softened with the memory.
"It has a sunroof and the walls sparkle like diamonds. It was so beautiful. There's a little bubbly pond with a soft sandy
bottom. We made love in the water. He was wonderful."
"Was I?"
Angela turned her dreamy gaze to the men standing in the entryway, as her two friends jumped. Her eyes snapped open
wide then she quickly dropped them to the floor, hoping the men hadn't seen the embarrassment evident in her blush.
Peeking up to see if they had noticed, she saw that Rafe had a rather nasty looking dark bump by his left eye, and there was
blood at the corner of Rat's mouth. Angela's voice joined with Charlotte's in asking, "What happened?"
The men came to the table, each taking a seat next to their chosen woman. Rafe looked a little disgruntled as he sat next to
Angela. She assumed from his look toward the head of the table that center front was his usual seat. She was inexplicably
pleased that he had chosen to sit by her. Rafe put two fingers between his teeth and an ear piercing whistle sounded. Then
he roared, "Cook, feed us!"
The door to the kitchen opened a crack and Cook peered around it. With a loud 'humph' he disappeared back into the
kitchen.
Rafe laughed, putting his arm around Angela's shoulders, and she realized that he was in extremely good spirits. She arched
a quizzical eyebrow at Rat, hoping he would shed some light on the situation. Rat shrugged, basking in the attention his
bloody lip was receiving from Charlotte.
"It's nothing, honey. I just bit my lip when Rafe hit me."
Charlotte cast a killing glance Rafe's way. She dipped a corner of her cloth napkin in Rat's water glass and carefully dabbed
at the blood. Rafe laughed at her continuing narrow-eyed glares. Not quite under her breath, Charlotte started a running
diatribe on what a horrible man Rafe was, and how she just couldn't understand why such a nice man as Rat would stay
around when Rafe obviously didn't appreciate him. Rafe turned to Angela with a raised eyebrow. She shrugged and smiled.
"She doesn't mean it, she's just upset 'cause you hurt her boyfriend. What happened, Rafe? Is your eye all right?"
Angela tenderly touched his eyebrow near the bump. Rafe winced and pulled away slightly. He narrowed his eyes at Rat for
a second, then smiled and shrugged.
"We had a little disagreement. I thought we should ask a thousand apiece for you, he said you were only worth
nine-hundred."
That got everyone's attention. Rat yelled, "Rafe!" Rafe's grin widened and he chuckled.
"Okay, the three of us discussed it and we decided to keep you."
He grew serious, turning his slightly narrowed eyes on each of the girls as he spoke.
"You all give me your word you won't try to get away again and you'll be free to do as you please on this island, just like
one of the crew."
One corner of his handsome mouth raised in a grin.
"Without the cut, of course."
He smiled at Angela, and a happy glow spread through her body. She felt as though all was right with the world. Her voice
was soft, full of her love for him.
"You have my word."
Rafe pinned Ginny with his steely gaze. She shrugged.
"I think we should get a cut."
Blade glared at her. She flashed her teeth at him, then returned her attention to Rafe.
"Okay, you've got my word. But if we can find stuff to do around here, I don't see why we shouldn't get paid like everybody
else."
"If you prove useful enough," he smiled wryly at Blade, "to the operation, we'll see about a small cut."
Ginny smiled, looking very pleased with herself.
Now it was Charlotte's turn to come under Rafe's scrutiny. As usual, she wanted to talk about it.
"Where will we sleep? I mean, I think we should have our own rooms. Everyone else seems to. And we'll need clothes. I for
one did not bring enough clothes for a long stay. And most of what I brought wouldn't be suitable for pirating, anyway.
What does a female pirate wear? It's so hot, we're going to need a case of sunscreen. I burn terribly easily. And...Umm!"
At Rafe's exasperated look, Rat put his hand over Charlotte's mouth. Her outraged gasp made Rat smile.
"I don't think Rafe cares about all that right now, honey. Besides, you don't need your own room. You're staying with me.
Now give him your word."
As he spoke, he released her mouth. Glaring, she attempted to give Rat a piece of her mind.
"I do not appreciate being stifled. And give me one good reason I should agree to stay here with a bunch of no-good..."
This time she was silenced by Rat's lips possessively claiming her own. He tangled his hand into her hair and pulled her
half out of her chair to more fully meet his demand. His other arm went around her back to keep her from sinking to the
floor. After several seconds, during which Charlotte lost the ability to think of anything other than the glorious pressure
bruising her lips, Rat sat her back into her chair and released her. Charlotte turned to Rafe and in a breathless voice said,
"You have my word." Then she turned wide eyes on Rat, who leaned back in his chair, looking very proud of himself.
Cook came into the dining room then, bringing a tray loaded with salads. He cast a withering glare in Rafe's direction as he
went about practically tossing the plates onto the table in front of the men. Rafe gave him a smiling finger-to-temple salute,
as Cook returned to the kitchen. The grizzled old man seemed to ignore him, but a closer look showed a slight lessening of
his frown.
Blade leaned close to whisper into Ginny's ear, "Why don't you go on up to the room and get ready for bed?"
He leaned back and flipped his eyebrows. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, but in doing so, she looked into his grey eyes
and saw the heat smoldering there. As he began eating his salad, his expression remaining bland, Blade took Ginny's hand
under the table and placed it on his hard crotch. Ginny gasped and jumped, causing everyone except Blade, who continued
eating, to look in her direction. She glared at him again.
Standing, Ginny smiled at the others seated at the table. Slightly flustered by the curious attention she was receiving, she
maneuvered around her chair, replacing it under the table.
"I think I'll head upstairs. It's been a hard day," Blade chuckled and she glared down at him, "and I'm bushed. Good night,
everybody."
Charlotte piped up.
"Hang on a second, Gin, I'll go with you."
Angela had been enjoying watching Rafe eat, partially because it was making him nervous and she didn't get much
opportunity to do that. He smiled at her now and said, "Why don't you go with your friends, honey. I'll be up in a little
while."
She smiled, willing to let him off the hook so that he could enjoy his meal. She started to stand and was pleasantly
surprised when Rafe stood and pulled her chair out. He waited until she had moved out of the way, then placed it back
under the table and returned to his own seat. He was hungrily digging into his food as she and her friends headed upstairs.

Charlotte retrieved her bag from the shelf in Rat's room, making a mental note to see that Ginny got her stuff in the
morning, and frantically began preparing herself for her first night with Rat. She took a very quick shower, none too
pleased with the fact that she had to go down the hall to the bathroom. She shaved her legs, nicking them several times in
her haste, then donned the pink chiffon nightgown she had brought along just in case Prince Charming had turned up on the
yacht. It fell to just above her knees and she thought it was very flattering with her black hair. She sprayed her favorite
perfume, Passion, on all the pressure points she could think of, even on her inner thighs. She blushed as she thought of Rat
kissing her there, smelling her perfume.
Charlotte was shaking as she thought of the night to come. She mentally chastised herself for being so foolish. It wasn't as
if she hadn't done this before. She grimaced as she remembered what a messy business this could be, not at all like the
romance novels described it. Both of the men she had been with had done it rather quickly, then turned over, one with a
'That was great, baby', and gone to sleep. Charlotte was left to wonder what the romance writers were doing that she hadn't
done. Or was it all a lie, a fantasy to keep their readers coming back for more?
As she searched Rat's shelves for clean sheets, she hoped that this time, this man, would be different. Though she was
trying to be optimistic, the disappointments of her past were catching up with her. She found a set of sheets, still in their
plastic store covering, and made the bed. The sheets were pale blue, a perfect compliment to her nightie. Charlotte fluffed
the pillows, climbed into the middle of the bed, turning the corner of the sheet back to welcome Rat, and waited with
growing trepidation.
She didn't have long to wait. The men had eaten rather quickly, each in a hurry to get to his room. Charlotte had been
staring at her hands in her lap, wondering if Rat had changed his mind, for about five minutes, when she heard the
doorknob turn. Staring at it like the heroine in a horror movie, she watched as the door swung slowly open.
When Rat walked into his room, the vision before him took his breath away. Charlotte was sitting propped up by pillows,
pink fluff all around her. He stood in the open doorway, his hand on the doorknob, and stared at her. After a quick glance
toward him when he walked in, she had begun studiously examining her hands in her lap. With a whispered, "Wow," Rat
stepped into the room and closed the door.
He began tearing his clothes off as he advanced on the bed, not wanting to wait a minute longer to ease his aching body. He
realized with a worried frown that the ache he was feeling could have been caused by Rafe's kick. He remembered kissing
Charlotte at the table and shook his head. No, she had caused it. And now this beautiful lady was waiting for him. He had
already kept her waiting too long. She was probably hurting something awful by now.
Rat pulled the sheet down, throwing it to the ground at the foot of the bed. Completely naked, he laid himself gently over
Charlotte's body, using his weight to pull her farther down into the bed. That caused her nightgown to ride up to her hips.
Her soft down brushing his thighs caused Rat to inhale deeply, trying to control his raging desire. He put his hand between
them, sliding his finger into her to be sure she was wet so he wouldn't hurt her. Leaving his hand there to guide himself, he
rested his weight on his other elbow, and leaned down to kiss her. Sealing the kiss with a thrust, he entered her, sliding to
the hilt.
Charlotte's silken envelope engulfed him, allowing Rat very few thrusts before the sensation became too much and he
poured his passion into her welcoming body. Exhausted from the act and the anticipation, he collapsed onto her, wrapping
his arms around her and burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. He drifted off into a fluffy pink cloud.
Charlotte lay beneath him, silent tears pouring down her face. She cursed herself for being such a fool, believing that this
time would be any different. Men were all the same, hadn't she told Ginny and Angela that a hundred times? Why hadn't
she listened to herself? She could have saved herself so much heartbreak.
Nearly drowning in her own tears, Charlotte sniffed, trying to clear her throat to breath better. Rat stirred and rolled onto
his back. He pulled her head onto his chest and smiled in his sleep. The tears increased. Charlotte realized that for the first
time, her heart really was breaking. All the other times had just been practice for the big one. Unable to remain quiet any
longer, she let the sobs wrack her body.
Rat heard Charlotte sobbing, felt her body shaking against his own. He jumped, pulling her tightly into his arms.
"Hey, what's wrong, honey? Did I hurt you?"
Charlotte pulled away from him and sat up to glare at him. Balling up her fist, she hit him in the chest.
"Yes, you hurt me, you creep! You treat me like the lowest whore and then you ask me if you hurt me. Just go away. I hate
you! I hate all men!"
Plowing her face into the pillow, Charlotte sobbed loudly. Rat was completely confused. He thought she had wanted it as
much as he did. Was he wrong? She hadn't acted like he was hurting her. She'd been wet, she'd kissed him back. What had
he done, why was she crying? He turned on his side to face her, laying his hand gently on her shoulder. If possible, her sobs
grew louder.
"Charlotte, I don't get it. Baby, please, stop cryin'. I'm sorry, honey. I'll fix it, sweetheart, whatever it is, I'll fix it. Just tell
me what you need, and I'll get it."
Charlotte sat up, looking at him through swollen red eyes. She hit him in the chest again, then flew off of the bed to stand
in the middle of the room glaring at him.
"Oh, you stupid man! You can't fix my heart with something from your damn shelves. You broke it, don't you understand,
you cretin, you broke my heart!"
Rat crossed his legs, sitting Indian-style on the bed, and shook his head. He looked up at her, confusion and pain showing
in his eyes.
"No, I don't understand. I thought you wanted me."
"I did want you. I wanted to make love, something I am now convinced is a figment of some sadistic writers' imaginations.
Or maybe it's something women are capable of, but men never will be. All you want is to get your rocks off and have a
good night's sleep. Well, I'm tired of being used as a glorified sleeping pill. I want to be romanced, loved, held till I fall
asleep. Is that so much to ask? Never mind, I know it's too much to expect from a man. I think I'll become a nun."
Rat smiled a soft smile. She was so beautiful, ranting and pacing, her face all flushed, her body completely visible through
the pink cloud. He climbed off the bed and began slowly walking toward her. His voice was low, growing lower and more
seductive with each word.
"I don't think they'd let ya dress that way. Besides, that would be a waste. I can think of better things to do with that
beautiful body of yours than cover it with all that black stuff."
Charlotte narrowed her eyes suspiciously as he came closer to her. She took a step backward and came up against a shelf.
"What do you want? I'm warning you, I know how to use my knee."
Rat groaned.
"Oh, please, baby, if ya wanna kill me, use a gun."
It was Charlotte's turn to look confused. Rat stepped close to her, her gown brushing him, static electricity causing his body
hair to stand on end. He looked down at her, and the look in his eyes made Charlotte's breathing quicken. He spoke in a
husky voice.
"The chicks I've had before always wanted it like that, hard and fast. I've never had a lady like you. I love too easy, baby. So
I get smacked down a lot. If you want to make love, does that mean that you love me?"
The hope in his voice was almost painful to hear. Charlotte gazed into his eyes and felt her body begin to melt. Maybe she
would believe just one more time.
"Yes, Rat, I do love you."
Rat took her shoulders in a grip of steel she hadn't thought him capable of, and pulled her tightly against his body. His lips
came down on hers in a feather-light caress. Feeling her slight shiver, he deepened the kiss, running his tongue along her
lower lip, sending chills down her spine. He took a step back, dipped and lifted her into his arms. Turning, he laid her
gently on the bed. He stood looking down at her, then shook his head.
"That thing's pretty, honey, but I want to see and touch you. All of you. Take it off."
He stepped back so that she could stand and pull the gown over her head. She heard his intake of breath as she dropped the
chiffon cloud to the floor. He reached out and touched her breast, his fingertips barely brushing across the tender surface.
Goosebumps erupted over her whole body and she shivered again, letting her head drop back. He smiled, a slow, sexy
smile.
"You cold, darlin'?"
Straightening, Charlotte shook her head slowly, feeling as though she had stepped into a dream. He came closer to her,
cupping both her breasts in his hands, testing their weight. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and ran them down
her sides, turning at her hips and brushing his fingers across the dark triangle at the junction of her legs.
Charlotte was having an awful time filling her lungs with air. As her knees grew slightly weak, Rat lifted her and placed
her back on the bed. He knelt between her legs, leaned over her and placed the lightest of feathery kisses on her neck, then
her collar bone and on down to her nipple. When his lips closed around the hard peak, Charlotte felt a tingle spread through
her body and a burst of moisture between her legs. She was more than ready for him now. She put her arms around his neck
and tried to pull him to her. Smiling, Rat straightened, easily breaking her hold on him, and shook his head.
"Not yet."
Charlotte groaned, feeling as though she might faint if this sweet torture were prolonged much longer. She had never been
this high, never wanted a man this much. It was a little scary, feeling so much in someone's power, but she knew that Rat
wouldn't hurt her.
Rat caressed her thighs, enjoying the jump of the muscles under his hands. He ran his fingers into her satin triangle.
Spreading her wide, he leaned over and blew on her moist skin. She moaned and wriggled, arching her hips. He kissed her
in a way meant to bring ecstasy, his tongue darting as his lips closed and sucked. She exhaled a scream and arched against
his lips. No longer able to breath without moaning, Charlotte plunged her fingers into Rat's long hair and pulled.
"Please, Rat!"
Rat needed no more encouragement. He slid up her body, rubbing his chest against her tender breasts. As she felt him settle
into position between her legs, she lifted her knees, arched, trying to join with him. He chuckled. Looking down at her, he
tested what was left of his control by teasing her.
"How am I doing? Still a cretin?"
Wide, passion glazed brown eyes glared at him from a wonderfully flushed pale face. He tilted his head to one side.
"What is a cretin, anyway?"
"Oh, who cares! If you don't finish this right now, you're going to be bald!"
She was pulling his hair, but Rat didn't care anymore. He plunged into her with all the passion he had been holding in
check. He tried to withdraw, fearing he might have hurt her, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and followed him,
keeping him inside her. Rat totally lost control, hugging her to him and pistoning in and out of her body like a dynamo.
Charlotte suddenly tensed and Rat vaguely wondered if something was wrong. He looked into her eyes and saw wonder,
and a little fear, glistening there. He couldn't stop, couldn't form the words to tell her it was all right. So he tightened his
arms around her, trying to show her that she was safe. Her eyes rolled and her muscles began to spasm, caressing him,
coaxing him to fulfillment. That indefinable switch clicked inside his body, and Rat felt as though the galaxy had exploded.
He threw his head back and yelled, as his hot seed pumped into her. Amazingly, her muscles began to spasm again, causing
Rat more pleasure than he had ever thought possible. Charlotte screamed his name, as she slipped from consciousness to
blissful oblivion.

                        Chapter Fourteen
                                
The dinner that the grumbling Cook laid out on the dining room table was a veritable feast. It began with a salad full of bits
of fish, the main course was prime rib with new potatoes and asparagus in Hollandaise sauce, and for dessert--Pears
Flambe'. Angela and her two friends gaped at each other as each course was presented to them. They all complimented the
cook as he returned to the kitchen, praise that was met with more grumbling about 'fixing meals at all times of the day and
night, no concern for an old man's arthritic bones' and so on.
Angela filled Ginny and Charlotte in on her current disagreement with Rafe, leaving out a few of the more unpleasant
details. She didn't think they really needed to know his opinion of their uses, or that she had lost her temper and slapped
him. Charlotte was predictably livid over the news of their continued confinement, carrying on about the FBI, kidnapping,
false imprisonment until Ginny said, "Bull!"
They turned to her in surprise, Charlotte actually stopping to take a breath before responding.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said 'Bull'. You don't want to leave this place any more than either of us do. We all want to get to know more about these
guys. Hell, you're probably half in love with Rat already. After all, you keep telling us how nice he's been to you. And
Angie admitted that she's crazy about Rafe. So why all the bitching?"
Charlotte looked slightly miffed, stabbing a pear with great gusto. Angela smiled at Ginny, raising her eyebrows.
"And what about you, Gin, do you want to get to know Blade better?"
Since Ginny rarely blushed, her doing so now was answer enough. Angela realized that in their own unique way, the three
pirates had cast their spells over herself and her friends. She wondered if they would all live to regret falling under those
spells.
Charlotte's voice dropped to a loud whisper. She leaned toward Angela.
"Angie, did you really do it in that cave?"
Ginny gave a disgusted snort, rolling her eyes heavenward, but she leaned closer to Angela, showing her interest in the
subject. Angela blushed furiously, giving a quick little nod.
"Actually, not right there. There's this little room behind the main cave."
Her voice softened with the memory.
"It has a sunroof and the walls sparkle like diamonds. It was so beautiful. There's a little bubbly pond with a soft sandy
bottom. We made love in the water. He was wonderful."
"Was I?"
Angela turned her dreamy gaze to the men standing in the entryway, as her two friends jumped. Her eyes snapped open
wide then she quickly dropped them to the floor, hoping the men hadn't seen the embarrassment evident in her blush.
Peeking up to see if they had noticed, she saw that Rafe had a rather nasty looking dark bump by his left eye, and there was
blood at the corner of Rat's mouth. Angela's voice joined with Charlotte's in asking, "What happened?"
The men came to the table, each taking a seat next to their chosen woman. Rafe looked a little disgruntled as he sat next to
Angela. She assumed from his look toward the head of the table that center front was his usual seat. She was inexplicably
pleased that he had chosen to sit by her. Rafe put two fingers between his teeth and an ear piercing whistle sounded. Then
he roared, "Cook, feed us!"
The door to the kitchen opened a crack and Cook peered around it. With a loud 'humph' he disappeared back into the
kitchen.
Rafe laughed, putting his arm around Angela's shoulders, and she realized that he was in extremely good spirits. She arched
a quizzical eyebrow at Rat, hoping he would shed some light on the situation. Rat shrugged, basking in the attention his
bloody lip was receiving from Charlotte.
"It's nothing, honey. I just bit my lip when Rafe hit me."
Charlotte cast a killing glance Rafe's way. She dipped a corner of her cloth napkin in Rat's water glass and carefully dabbed
at the blood. Rafe laughed at her continuing narrow-eyed glares. Not quite under her breath, Charlotte started a running
diatribe on what a horrible man Rafe was, and how she just couldn't understand why such a nice man as Rat would stay
around when Rafe obviously didn't appreciate him. Rafe turned to Angela with a raised eyebrow. She shrugged and smiled.
"She doesn't mean it, she's just upset 'cause you hurt her boyfriend. What happened, Rafe? Is your eye all right?"
Angela tenderly touched his eyebrow near the bump. Rafe winced and pulled away slightly. He narrowed his eyes at Rat for
a second, then smiled and shrugged.
"We had a little disagreement. I thought we should ask a thousand apiece for you, he said you were only worth
nine-hundred."
That got everyone's attention. Rat yelled, "Rafe!" Rafe's grin widened and he chuckled.
"Okay, the three of us discussed it and we decided to keep you."
He grew serious, turning his slightly narrowed eyes on each of the girls as he spoke.
"You all give me your word you won't try to get away again and you'll be free to do as you please on this island, just like
one of the crew."
One corner of his handsome mouth raised in a grin.
"Without the cut, of course."
He smiled at Angela, and a happy glow spread through her body. She felt as though all was right with the world. Her voice
was soft, full of her love for him.
"You have my word."
Rafe pinned Ginny with his steely gaze. She shrugged.
"I think we should get a cut."
Blade glared at her. She flashed her teeth at him, then returned her attention to Rafe.
"Okay, you've got my word. But if we can find stuff to do around here, I don't see why we shouldn't get paid like everybody
else."
"If you prove useful enough," he smiled wryly at Blade, "to the operation, we'll see about a small cut."
Ginny smiled, looking very pleased with herself.
Now it was Charlotte's turn to come under Rafe's scrutiny. As usual, she wanted to talk about it.
"Where will we sleep? I mean, I think we should have our own rooms. Everyone else seems to. And we'll need clothes. I for
one did not bring enough clothes for a long stay. And most of what I brought wouldn't be suitable for pirating, anyway.
What does a female pirate wear? It's so hot, we're going to need a case of sunscreen. I burn terribly easily. And...Umm!"
At Rafe's exasperated look, Rat put his hand over Charlotte's mouth. Her outraged gasp made Rat smile.
"I don't think Rafe cares about all that right now, honey. Besides, you don't need your own room. You're staying with me.
Now give him your word."
As he spoke, he released her mouth. Glaring, she attempted to give Rat a piece of her mind.
"I do not appreciate being stifled. And give me one good reason I should agree to stay here with a bunch of no-good..."
This time she was silenced by Rat's lips possessively claiming her own. He tangled his hand into her hair and pulled her
half out of her chair to more fully meet his demand. His other arm went around her back to keep her from sinking to the
floor. After several seconds, during which Charlotte lost the ability to think of anything other than the glorious pressure
bruising her lips, Rat sat her back into her chair and released her. Charlotte turned to Rafe and in a breathless voice said,
"You have my word." Then she turned wide eyes on Rat, who leaned back in his chair, looking very proud of himself.
Cook came into the dining room then, bringing a tray loaded with salads. He cast a withering glare in Rafe's direction as he
went about practically tossing the plates onto the table in front of the men. Rafe gave him a smiling finger-to-temple salute,
as Cook returned to the kitchen. The grizzled old man seemed to ignore him, but a closer look showed a slight lessening of
his frown.
Blade leaned close to whisper into Ginny's ear, "Why don't you go on up to the room and get ready for bed?"
He leaned back and flipped his eyebrows. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, but in doing so, she looked into his grey eyes
and saw the heat smoldering there. As he began eating his salad, his expression remaining bland, Blade took Ginny's hand
under the table and placed it on his hard crotch. Ginny gasped and jumped, causing everyone except Blade, who continued
eating, to look in her direction. She glared at him again.
Standing, Ginny smiled at the others seated at the table. Slightly flustered by the curious attention she was receiving, she
maneuvered around her chair, replacing it under the table.
"I think I'll head upstairs. It's been a hard day," Blade chuckled and she glared down at him, "and I'm bushed. Good night,
everybody."
Charlotte piped up.
"Hang on a second, Gin, I'll go with you."
Angela had been enjoying watching Rafe eat, partially because it was making him nervous and she didn't get much
opportunity to do that. He smiled at her now and said, "Why don't you go with your friends, honey. I'll be up in a little
while."
She smiled, willing to let him off the hook so that he could enjoy his meal. She started to stand and was pleasantly
surprised when Rafe stood and pulled her chair out. He waited until she had moved out of the way, then placed it back
under the table and returned to his own seat. He was hungrily digging into his food as she and her friends headed upstairs.

Charlotte retrieved her bag from the shelf in Rat's room, making a mental note to see that Ginny got her stuff in the
morning, and frantically began preparing herself for her first night with Rat. She took a very quick shower, none too
pleased with the fact that she had to go down the hall to the bathroom. She shaved her legs, nicking them several times in
her haste, then donned the pink chiffon nightgown she had brought along just in case Prince Charming had turned up on the
yacht. It fell to just above her knees and she thought it was very flattering with her black hair. She sprayed her favorite
perfume, Passion, on all the pressure points she could think of, even on her inner thighs. She blushed as she thought of Rat
kissing her there, smelling her perfume.
Charlotte was shaking as she thought of the night to come. She mentally chastised herself for being so foolish. It wasn't as
if she hadn't done this before. She grimaced as she remembered what a messy business this could be, not at all like the
romance novels described it. Both of the men she had been with had done it rather quickly, then turned over, one with a
'That was great, baby', and gone to sleep. Charlotte was left to wonder what the romance writers were doing that she hadn't
done. Or was it all a lie, a fantasy to keep their readers coming back for more?
As she searched Rat's shelves for clean sheets, she hoped that this time, this man, would be different. Though she was
trying to be optimistic, the disappointments of her past were catching up with her. She found a set of sheets, still in their
plastic store covering, and made the bed. The sheets were pale blue, a perfect compliment to her nightie. Charlotte fluffed
the pillows, climbed into the middle of the bed, turning the corner of the sheet back to welcome Rat, and waited with
growing trepidation.
She didn't have long to wait. The men had eaten rather quickly, each in a hurry to get to his room. Charlotte had been
staring at her hands in her lap, wondering if Rat had changed his mind, for about five minutes, when she heard the
doorknob turn. Staring at it like the heroine in a horror movie, she watched as the door swung slowly open.
When Rat walked into his room, the vision before him took his breath away. Charlotte was sitting propped up by pillows,
pink fluff all around her. He stood in the open doorway, his hand on the doorknob, and stared at her. After a quick glance
toward him when he walked in, she had begun studiously examining her hands in her lap. With a whispered, "Wow," Rat
stepped into the room and closed the door.
He began tearing his clothes off as he advanced on the bed, not wanting to wait a minute longer to ease his aching body. He
realized with a worried frown that the ache he was feeling could have been caused by Rafe's kick. He remembered kissing
Charlotte at the table and shook his head. No, she had caused it. And now this beautiful lady was waiting for him. He had
already kept her waiting too long. She was probably hurting something awful by now.
Rat pulled the sheet down, throwing it to the ground at the foot of the bed. Completely naked, he laid himself gently over
Charlotte's body, using his weight to pull her farther down into the bed. That caused her nightgown to ride up to her hips.
Her soft down brushing his thighs caused Rat to inhale deeply, trying to control his raging desire. He put his hand between
them, sliding his finger into her to be sure she was wet so he wouldn't hurt her. Leaving his hand there to guide himself, he
rested his weight on his other elbow, and leaned down to kiss her. Sealing the kiss with a thrust, he entered her, sliding to
the hilt.
Charlotte's silken envelope engulfed him, allowing Rat very few thrusts before the sensation became too much and he
poured his passion into her welcoming body. Exhausted from the act and the anticipation, he collapsed onto her, wrapping
his arms around her and burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. He drifted off into a fluffy pink cloud.
Charlotte lay beneath him, silent tears pouring down her face. She cursed herself for being such a fool, believing that this
time would be any different. Men were all the same, hadn't she told Ginny and Angela that a hundred times? Why hadn't
she listened to herself? She could have saved herself so much heartbreak.
Nearly drowning in her own tears, Charlotte sniffed, trying to clear her throat to breath better. Rat stirred and rolled onto
his back. He pulled her head onto his chest and smiled in his sleep. The tears increased. Charlotte realized that for the first
time, her heart really was breaking. All the other times had just been practice for the big one. Unable to remain quiet any
longer, she let the sobs wrack her body.
Rat heard Charlotte sobbing, felt her body shaking against his own. He jumped, pulling her tightly into his arms.
"Hey, what's wrong, honey? Did I hurt you?"
Charlotte pulled away from him and sat up to glare at him. Balling up her fist, she hit him in the chest.
"Yes, you hurt me, you creep! You treat me like the lowest whore and then you ask me if you hurt me. Just go away. I hate
you! I hate all men!"
Plowing her face into the pillow, Charlotte sobbed loudly. Rat was completely confused. He thought she had wanted it as
much as he did. Was he wrong? She hadn't acted like he was hurting her. She'd been wet, she'd kissed him back. What had
he done, why was she crying? He turned on his side to face her, laying his hand gently on her shoulder. If possible, her sobs
grew louder.
"Charlotte, I don't get it. Baby, please, stop cryin'. I'm sorry, honey. I'll fix it, sweetheart, whatever it is, I'll fix it. Just tell
me what you need, and I'll get it."
Charlotte sat up, looking at him through swollen red eyes. She hit him in the chest again, then flew off of the bed to stand
in the middle of the room glaring at him.
"Oh, you stupid man! You can't fix my heart with something from your damn shelves. You broke it, don't you understand,
you cretin, you broke my heart!"
Rat crossed his legs, sitting Indian-style on the bed, and shook his head. He looked up at her, confusion and pain showing
in his eyes.
"No, I don't understand. I thought you wanted me."
"I did want you. I wanted to make love, something I am now convinced is a figment of some sadistic writers' imaginations.
Or maybe it's something women are capable of, but men never will be. All you want is to get your rocks off and have a
good night's sleep. Well, I'm tired of being used as a glorified sleeping pill. I want to be romanced, loved, held till I fall
asleep. Is that so much to ask? Never mind, I know it's too much to expect from a man. I think I'll become a nun."
Rat smiled a soft smile. She was so beautiful, ranting and pacing, her face all flushed, her body completely visible through
the pink cloud. He climbed off the bed and began slowly walking toward her. His voice was low, growing lower and more
seductive with each word.
"I don't think they'd let ya dress that way. Besides, that would be a waste. I can think of better things to do with that
beautiful body of yours than cover it with all that black stuff."
Charlotte narrowed her eyes suspiciously as he came closer to her. She took a step backward and came up against a shelf.
"What do you want? I'm warning you, I know how to use my knee."
Rat groaned.
"Oh, please, baby, if ya wanna kill me, use a gun."
It was Charlotte's turn to look confused. Rat stepped close to her, her gown brushing him, static electricity causing his body
hair to stand on end. He looked down at her, and the look in his eyes made Charlotte's breathing quicken. He spoke in a
husky voice.
"The chicks I've had before always wanted it like that, hard and fast. I've never had a lady like you. I love too easy, baby. So
I get smacked down a lot. If you want to make love, does that mean that you love me?"
The hope in his voice was almost painful to hear. Charlotte gazed into his eyes and felt her body begin to melt. Maybe she
would believe just one more time.
"Yes, Rat, I do love you."
Rat took her shoulders in a grip of steel she hadn't thought him capable of, and pulled her tightly against his body. His lips
came down on hers in a feather-light caress. Feeling her slight shiver, he deepened the kiss, running his tongue along her
lower lip, sending chills down her spine. He took a step back, dipped and lifted her into his arms. Turning, he laid her
gently on the bed. He stood looking down at her, then shook his head.
"That thing's pretty, honey, but I want to see and touch you. All of you. Take it off."
He stepped back so that she could stand and pull the gown over her head. She heard his intake of breath as she dropped the
chiffon cloud to the floor. He reached out and touched her breast, his fingertips barely brushing across the tender surface.
Goosebumps erupted over her whole body and she shivered again, letting her head drop back. He smiled, a slow, sexy
smile.
"You cold, darlin'?"
Straightening, Charlotte shook her head slowly, feeling as though she had stepped into a dream. He came closer to her,
cupping both her breasts in his hands, testing their weight. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and ran them down
her sides, turning at her hips and brushing his fingers across the dark triangle at the junction of her legs.
Charlotte was having an awful time filling her lungs with air. As her knees grew slightly weak, Rat lifted her and placed
her back on the bed. He knelt between her legs, leaned over her and placed the lightest of feathery kisses on her neck, then
her collar bone and on down to her nipple. When his lips closed around the hard peak, Charlotte felt a tingle spread through
her body and a burst of moisture between her legs. She was more than ready for him now. She put her arms around his neck
and tried to pull him to her. Smiling, Rat straightened, easily breaking her hold on him, and shook his head.
"Not yet."
Charlotte groaned, feeling as though she might faint if this sweet torture were prolonged much longer. She had never been
this high, never wanted a man this much. It was a little scary, feeling so much in someone's power, but she knew that Rat
wouldn't hurt her.
Rat caressed her thighs, enjoying the jump of the muscles under his hands. He ran his fingers into her satin triangle.
Spreading her wide, he leaned over and blew on her moist skin. She moaned and wriggled, arching her hips. He kissed her
in a way meant to bring ecstasy, his tongue darting as his lips closed and sucked. She exhaled a scream and arched against
his lips. No longer able to breath without moaning, Charlotte plunged her fingers into Rat's long hair and pulled.
"Please, Rat!"
Rat needed no more encouragement. He slid up her body, rubbing his chest against her tender breasts. As she felt him settle
into position between her legs, she lifted her knees, arched, trying to join with him. He chuckled. Looking down at her, he
tested what was left of his control by teasing her.
"How am I doing? Still a cretin?"
Wide, passion glazed brown eyes glared at him from a wonderfully flushed pale face. He tilted his head to one side.
"What is a cretin, anyway?"
"Oh, who cares! If you don't finish this right now, you're going to be bald!"
She was pulling his hair, but Rat didn't care anymore. He plunged into her with all the passion he had been holding in
check. He tried to withdraw, fearing he might have hurt her, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and followed him,
keeping him inside her. Rat totally lost control, hugging her to him and pistoning in and out of her body like a dynamo.
Charlotte suddenly tensed and Rat vaguely wondered if something was wrong. He looked into her eyes and saw wonder,
and a little fear, glistening there. He couldn't stop, couldn't form the words to tell her it was all right. So he tightened his
arms around her, trying to show her that she was safe. Her eyes rolled and her muscles began to spasm, caressing him,
coaxing him to fulfillment. That indefinable switch clicked inside his body, and Rat felt as though the galaxy had exploded.
He threw his head back and yelled, as his hot seed pumped into her. Amazingly, her muscles began to spasm again, causing
Rat more pleasure than he had ever thought possible. Charlotte screamed his name, as she slipped from consciousness to
blissful oblivion.
                        Chapter Fifteen
                                
Angela stood on the balcony, a warm island breeze ruffling her long, golden hair. Rafe's black silk robe was wrapped about
her body and she hugged it to her as though it were armor. She looked up at the stars, wishing they might hold the answers
she sought.
Rafe lay fast asleep on his huge bed, a small smile playing across his lips. As soon as he had finished his meal, he had
come to her, ready to take her to the heights of ecstasy she was sure she could find only with him. Neither of them had been
disappointed. Rafe had fallen asleep afterward, holding her tightly in his arms.
Although physically satiated, nagging doubts and questions had kept Angela from finding the peace of slumber. After a
while of lying in his arms watching Rafe sleep, she had disentangled herself from him, bringing a slight frown to his
handsome face, found his robe and stepped out onto the balcony to get some air.
Angela sat on the linen covered cushion of one of the wrought iron lawn chairs that dotted the balcony. With a heavy sigh,
she contemplated the questions that had been keeping her awake.
She felt her decision to stay with Rafe had prompted Ginny and Charlotte to give their word to stay on this island. She had
been somewhat unsure of the intelligence of that decision, and now the holes in her logic were becoming very clear to her.
Would Rafe ever truly love her? He made glorious love to her, but was it just sex to him? Just a pleasant way to spend his
time between pirate forays? If Rafe didn't love her, and if Blade and Rat didn't feel something for her friends, something
other than lust that is, would they be passed around the island like the most common of whores?
Angela shook her head. She didn't want to believe that Rafe would do that to her, but she had seen how ruthless, how
uncaring he could be. A vision of Mr. Chandler dangling at the end of a rope came unbidden to her mind. Oh, yes, she
knew how bad Rafe could be. And she knew how warm and loving he could be. He was such a contradiction. Another
heavy sigh passed her lips, and sadness began to drown her earlier contentment.
"What's the matter, Angel?"
Angela jumped and turned to see Rafe standing in the open french doors, unashamedly naked. She blushed as her eyes
perused his body.
"Don't you think you ought to cover yourself?"
He smiled and put his finger under her chin to lift her eyes to his.
"You have my robe. You look awful sad, baby."
Angela dropped her eyes so he wouldn't see the painful questions there. She was certain that, at this point, he couldn't
answer them any better than she could. Rafe pulled a chair close to hers and sat. He took her hand and pulled her up, across
the space between their chairs and into his lap in one smooth motion. Still unused to naked male bodies, Angela blushed
when her hand brushed him very intimately. He inhaled sharply, then put his hand on the side of her face and pulled her
head against his chest.
"Tell me, girl."
Angela sighed again, thinking this was probably the closest she would ever get to paradise. And with her next words, she
knew it might become paradise lost.
"I love you, Rafe."
She looked up at his face and was pleased to note that he hadn't stiffened, wasn't grimacing. His expression was soft,
content as he looked at her with shining sherry eyes. He blinked very slowly, showing mellow satisfaction with life. Angela
leaned back against his chest. Her voice was very low, almost a whisper.
"I need to know if you can ever love me. Or am I wasting my time believing in a dream?"
Rafe took a deep breath, a little of his contentment leaving. He rubbed his chin on the top of her silky head. Maybe it was
time to let her in. Maybe she was different, wouldn't make him regret feeling something for her. He'd give her a little
knowledge, see what she did with it.
"The only person I ever loved was my father, and I murdered him."
Angel put her hand lightly on his arm, snuggled closer to him. She seemed to be offering comfort, encouraging him to
continue.
"My mother left us when I was 8 months old. My father raised me, if you can call what he did raising me. He made sure
there was always food on the table, and clothes on my back. But he got his money's worth in flesh and pain. God, how I
wanted to hate him! Who knows, maybe I did sometimes. But the night he died, I just wanted...Hell, I don't know, wanted
him to say he loved me, to give me a birthday present, anything to acknowledge me as his son, not just his whipping boy."
Rafe's voice had become vehement, his muscles tensing with remembered emotion. He stared out at the jungle, regaining
control, then he shrugged.
"He came home drunk. He'd gotten into some trouble on the mainland and I guess he just wanted somebody to work it out
on. I was used to it, didn't usually let it get to me, you know? But this time, the bastard pushed me too far! He tried to cut
my hair, said I looked like a girl. We fought and he lost."
Silence hung heavy in the air about them like an invisible pall. Angela now understood why his mood had changed so
abruptly earlier on the Scarab. She had mentioned a haircut and it had stirred up painful memories. She wanted to hug him
and tell him how sorry she was that he had had such a rotten childhood, but she sensed that he would see that as pity and
violently reject it. When she couldn't stand the silence any longer, she asked, "How old were you?"
"Just turned seventeen."
She tried to picture him as a seventeen-year-old, all full of himself like only a teenager can be. How his father's rejection of
his love must have hurt him, scarring him so deeply that he hadn't even tried to love since, didn't know if he could. Angela
put her arms around his neck and her face against his cheek, rubbing his sideburn. She spoke softly into his ear.
"I will never hurt you like that, Rafe, I promise."
She leaned back and looked deeply into his eyes. His expression was guarded, but she had seen it more so. She took his
face in her hands.
"I love you. I want to be with you forever. Will you please trust me, give me a chance to show you what love can be?"
"How do you know?"
Angela smiled and, turning to look out at the jungle, settled herself back against him.
"I was an only child, too. My parents were both middle-aged when I was born. They had lost all hope of ever having a baby
of their own, and they weren't rich enough to adopt. I can just imagine the look on my mom's face when they told her that
the flu she'd had for two weeks was really morning sickness."
She chuckled softly, a sound Rafe found charming.
"I was so spoiled. They thought the sun rose and set on me. I didn't realize it at the time, but they went without a lot of
things so that I could have whatever I wanted. And, you know, I honestly think they enjoyed it. I think they got more out of
giving me what I wanted than they would have gotten out of the things they did without.
The day I graduated from college, they looked so proud. I know this will sound stupid, but as I stood there in that dumb
looking hat and gown, I looked into their eyes and I knew what love really is. Not the kind that you read about in
Charlotte's books. I'm not sure that kind would last through appendicitis and getting laid off. The kind of love that lasts
forever. The kind that you can't help but pass on to your children because they're a part of it. I can't explain it, but I
suddenly understood about sacrifice and discipline and all those things I'd scoffed at for so long."
She shrugged and smiled, wiping the slight mist of tears from her eyes.
"They loved each other just as much as they loved me. They were always doing things for each other, little things like
picking a flower or fluffing pillows. When they looked at each other, you could see that they didn't regret one minute of
their lives together."
A shadow fell over Angela's glowing face, her voice reflecting her sorrow.
"When Dad had a heart attack, Mom was by his side in the hospital till the end. After he died, the life just seemed to be
gone from her. It was two weeks to the day after Dad died that she went to sleep and didn't wake up again. Their love was
their life."
Angela sat up and turned to him. Her face was tear streaked, her eyes glowing with unshed tears and determination.
"Before she died, my mother told me not to give up, to keep looking until I found true love like she and Dad had found. I
believe I've found it, Rafe, and I'm not going to let it go. I'm not going to let my parents down. I love you!"
The tears were threatening to overwhelm her. Rafe pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in his embrace, and let her cry
out her pain. Between sobs, she said, "I didn't realize how much I missed them."
When she had her emotions under control, Rafe pushed her back so that he could see her eyes.
"You were lucky, honey. I've never known that kind of love. I don't really know what love is, what it feels like when it's
right. Maybe you can teach me."
He shook his head, looking so sad and yet so hopeful that Angela nearly lost her tenuous control and started crying again.
She bit her bottom lip and fought the urge, wanting to hear what Rafe had to say.
"I won't lie to you and tell you that I'll ever love you. I just don't know."
His eyes darkened, his expression turning fierce. He grasped her arms, his grip almost painful.
"All I know is that you're mine. And I want everyone to know it. I want you to be my wife, Angel. I want my name on you
like a brand so you can never forget who you belong to. Tomorrow, we get married."
Rafe stood, raising her to her feet and settling her there. He smiled a little at the look of utter bewilderment on her face,
then kissed her soundly so she'd know he meant business. His tone lightened, becoming jovial.
"Now, you better get some sleep. You don't want to look haggard on your wedding day, do you?"
He chuckled, smacking her on the rear as he went passed her and into the bedroom. He was still laughing softly as he
crawled back into bed.
After several minutes of standing there with her mouth hanging open like a suffocating fish, trying to make sense of all
Rafe had just said, Angela followed him. He was settled back under the black sheets of his bed, her side of the bed turned
down and waiting for her. His eyes were closed but Angela was certain he hadn't gone back to sleep that quickly. She stared
at him for several minutes until he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her with a smile.
"You comin' to bed?"
Angela stood, hands on hips, her slightly disheveled hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back. Her beautiful blue
eyes were flashing fire at him.
"Would you like to explain what you just said? Don't you give me that arrogant shake of your head, mister! I don't intend to
be ordered to my own wedding. I don't recall you asking me to marry you, and I certainly don't recall my saying yes. I'm just
sure I'd remember something like that."
Rafe's smile turned slightly wicked.
"I just figured since we'd already had the wedding night, you might like the wedding. Being the proper lady that you are,
you'd have to get married to keep on giving me such a good time in bed, wouldn't you?"
Angela gasped. He was teasing her, his tilted head and mockingly raised eyebrow indicating as much, but she wasn't sure
that she found marriage a laughing matter. Besides, she really wasn't certain if he were teasing about his reasons for
marriage, or about the marriage itself. She gave him a frown, then turned from the bed, crossing her arms over her chest
and tapping her foot in thought. The springs on the bed squeaked and Angela felt Rafe's strong arms come around her and
his hot breath on her ear.
"The two most important things in the world to me are my island and my name. Like I said, when we marry, I give you my
name. My island goes to my heir. That'll be you," a strange tone entered his voice, "unless we have kids. It's all that I have,
Angel, all that I can promise to give you."
He turned her in his arms, capturing her eyes with the deep seriousness of his gaze.
"Will you accept?"
Angela felt her eyes fill with tears. She disgustedly brushed them away with the back of her hand.
"You're going to think I've got a never ending supply of waterworks. You know, I hardly ever cried before I came here.
Something about you makes me crazy. Of course, I accept!"
She managed to get the last out quickly, before the admission could make her start to cry. She threw her arms around Rafe's
neck, giving him all of her love in a kiss. He returned her kiss, feeling his passion stir, along with something else. He
deepened the kiss, subordinating the strange feeling that was trying to complicate his life to the well known desires of his
body.
Angela stiffened in his arms, then moved. He had been so wrapped up in her, he almost fell when she stepped away from
him. She giggled, then moved even farther from him. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her voice full of playful seduction.
"If tomorrow night will be our real wedding night, I think we should restrain from any more physical contact. Just to make
it more special."
Rafe groaned, feeling the growing tension in his loins.
"You're kidding, right?"
She shook her head, pulling the robe, which he had untied, closer around her body, concealing herself from his view. When
he took a step toward her, she backed away, her laughing, narrowed eyes showing him that she meant what she said. He ran
a shaking hand through his hair, then nodded. He sounded as if he were agreeing to torture. Which, indeed, he was.
"Okay, if that's the way you want it. I'm going to bed."
They climbed into bed from their respective sides. Rafe lay flat on his back, his hands behind his head, staring at the
ceiling. Angela turned onto her side away from him and snuggled, pressing her back against Rafe's side. He groaned again
and, practically jumping out of bed, went into the bathroom.
Angela heard the shower running. She knew it was mean, but she couldn't help snickering at his loud intake of breath as he
stepped into the freezing water.
Returning to bed after drying off, Rafe pressed his very cold body against Angela's warm back. At Angela's gasp, he
grumbled, "serves you right." She had to shift a little to get her uncomfortably aroused body to allow her peace. The
movement was almost too much for Rafe. He turned onto his side with his back to her, mumbling "how much is a man
supposed to take?" Back to back, both painfully aware of the proximity of the other, they drifted off to sleep.

                         Chapter Sixteen

     Angela's wedding was nothing like she would ever have imagined it to be.  Charlotte
practically wailed at the lack of preparation, pomp and circumstance.  Ginny was pretty
unconcerned about the whole thing, like she'd known it would happen all along.  By the time she
actually walked down the 'aisle', Angela was a nervous wreck.  And Rafe was, well, Rafe.  He
treated what few preparations they did make like an everyday occurrence, giving orders and
seeing that everything was done just the way he wanted.
     Rat broke into his store of goodies and found some party decorations.  They were for
New Year's, but they would have to do.  He strung black and white crepe paper around the jungle
at the front of the house.  He decided Rafe wouldn't be amused if he put noisemakers on the
chairs, but he did put a case of those little confetti blasters, the kind that have a string you pull so
a minuscule amount of shredded paper can fall at your feet, near the front steps.
     When Rafe informed Cook of his plans for the day, they really did hear the plethora of
blasphemies clear down at the dock.  An hour later, the aromas coming from the kitchen were
wonderful, evidence that Cook was mostly bluster.
     The only white attire Angela had, other than her sundress, was a little lycra number she
had brought along in case they had gotten really lucky with the crew of the yacht and had wanted
to dance.  It clung to her curves like a second skin, and ended at a totally indecent length. 
Standing in front of the mirror on the back of Rafe's closet door, she decided she looked like
something out of a Billy Idol video.  She was frowning at her reflection when Charlotte and
Ginny barged into the room, Charlotte's mouth going a mile a minute, as usual.
     "...absolutely no way I am going to wear black to my best friend's wedding.  I don't care if
it is the nicest thing I brought.  It's probably bad luck or something.  And you!  Black leather
might be appropriate for a Hell's Angel wedding, but it is definitely not right for Angela's."
     Ginny responded, using what she called her talking-to-an-idiot tone.
     "It's here, it's clean, it's semi-dressy, it'll have to do.  I didn't exactly pack the best of my
wardrobe, you know."
     "Oh, this is ridiculous!  Only a man would do this to a wedding.  I mean, they do not
appreciate the finer things in life, we always knew that.  But putting together a wedding in one
day?"
     Angela grabbed the space in Charlotte's tirade.
     "You two think you have problems, this is my wedding dress."
     The two arguing friends turned as one to gape at Angela.  Charlotte moaned.
     "Oh, Angie, you've got to be kidding.  You look..."
     Ginny nudged Charlotte, none to gently, in the ribs.
     "...wonderful.  You look really," Charlotte searched for a good word that wouldn't be a
lie. "...pure.  I mean, at least it's white, right?  Couldn't you talk him into waiting, even a week
would help?  We could go to the mainland and do a little shopping."
     Angela was shaking her head.
     "I barely got him to ask me to marry him instead of ordering me down the aisle.  I think
I'll quit while I'm ahead.  This will have to do."
     There was a knock at the door, then it was pushed open to reveal Rafe.  Charlotte
screamed and shoved Angela into the closet.  Angela was glad she was getting used to sudden,
unexpected actions.  She managed to retain her footing, and didn't even panic when the closet
door slammed shut behind her.  She smiled as Charlotte yelled at Rafe.
     "What are you doing here?  You can't see the bride on her wedding day, it's bad luck!"
     Angela heard Rafe's sardonic chuckle.
     "If I couldn't see the bride on her wedding day, it would be a little difficult to get married,
don't you think?  Besides, I saw her at breakfast this morning, didn't I, Angel?"
     Angela blushed to her toes at his reference to their rather untraditional wedding
breakfast.
     She had awakened to Rafe sitting a tray on the bed beside her.  It contained coffee for
two, a small pitcher of milk, a bowl of fresh peeled bananas and strawberries, and a silver
chalice filled with whipped cream.
     Angela rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stretching and presenting him with a charming
view of her breasts as the sheet deserted her.  Rafe changed his mind and moved the tray to the
bedside table.  He knelt on the bed, giving her a slit-eyed look that warmed her blood, leaned
down and placed a kiss on her nipple.  Angela jumped and reached for the covers, but he was
faster.  Grabbing them, he flung them to the floor, leaving her completely bare to his gaze. 
Blatantly enjoying the view, he stood and dropped his robe to the floor.  Angela noted that he
looked truly magnificent in the black silk garment, but even more so without it.
     Rafe plucked a strawberry from the bowl, dipped it in whipped cream, then held it out to
her, the expression on his face telling her this was going to be a long, and very pleasant,
breakfast.  Something was nagging at Angela, just beyond the reach of her memory, but as she
tried to find it, Rafe licked the whipped cream from the tip of the berry and her mind focused on
his mouth.  He slowly ran the now clean tip of the berry around her taut nipple.  The cold-on-hot
sensation sent ripples of feeling coursing through her veins to ignite parts of her body that hadn't
as yet awakened.  They did so now with a vengeance, making her shiver with a desire to discover
what sweet torture her pirate had in mind for her.
     Rafe brought the berry to his mouth and bit it, letting the juice run down his chin. 
Shivering, Angela decided it was time to attempt to turn the tables.  She took a banana from the
tray and dipped the end in whipped cream.  Rafe watched her with bated breath as she began
licking the cream from the tip of the fruit.  When she slid it slowly into her mouth, then
withdrew it, he wondered if he were going to be able to continue this game another minute.  He
tore his gaze from her lovely mouth, taking deep breaths to regain his composure.
     Continuing the game, Rafe put his finger into the whipped cream and placed a dollop on
her hardened nipple.  Angela gasped and tried to push him away, but to no avail.  He dipped his
head to the delicacy and licked the cream from it, then took a good portion of her breast into his
mouth.  Moaning, she dropped the forgotten banana to the floor and rolled to give him access to
as much of the sensitive surface as he wanted.  She tangled her fingers in his hair, trying to pull
him closer.
     Rafe slid his fingertips down her sensitive belly and into her most responsive center. 
Angela nearly screamed as she arched to meet his tender assault.  His finger slid easily into her
moistness, thrusting and driving her wild.  He caressed her with his thumb, plundering her
delicate body until it could stand no more.  Yelling his name, she tightened her hold on his head
and found relief from her agony behind star-sparked eyelids.
     Rafe felt her muscles spasm as she called out.  She had moved faster than he had
planned.  He smiled at the knowledge that his little Angel was quite hot in bed.  He liked that in
a woman.  He grimaced.  That wasn't all he liked in a woman, and right now that part of him was
on fire, hurting with need.  Feeling her convulsions of ecstasy had almost caused him to explode
himself.
 As Angela relaxed, enjoying the mellowing of the afterglow, Rafe placed himself between her
knees, preparing to end his torment.  But as he began to lower himself, she sat up and pushed
him sideways, so that he fell onto the bed.  In a heartbeat, she was straddling his hips, her hands
on his chest.  She tossed her head, her hair flying up and over her shoulders, and smiled down at
him.  Even in his agonized state, he thought how beautiful she was, how proud he was that she
was his.
     "Now it's my turn."
     Her words brought a wary expression to his face.  She laughed and reached to the chalice
for a fingerfull of whipped cream.  Smiling wickedly, she moved till she was kneeling between
his spread legs.  When she wrapped her lovely fingers around his shaft, Rafe moaned and tensed
every muscle in his body.
     Angela looked up at Rafe and marveled at the bulk of her pirate.  Pumped up as he was
now, he nearly doubled in size, his muscles bulging and rippling under his taut skin and deep
brown body hair.  He was truly magnificent.
     Returning her attention to what Charlotte's books always called 'his manhood', Angela
slowly spread the cream over the throbbing tip of this very special fruit.  When she leaned over
to lick the cream from him, Rafe held his breath, savoring every sensation.  As her tongue
brushed gently along his length, he exhaled in a great rush that resembled a roar.  Thrusting
upward, he slammed his hands into the bed, digging his fists into the sheet until it tore, trying
desperately not to grab her head and set the pace.  He might scare Angel if he did that, and he
definitely did not want her to stop what she was doing.
     Angela took as much of him into her mouth as she could, stroking the rest with her hand. 
She had always thought doing this would be gross, but now she found that giving this much
pleasure to the man she loved seemed the most natural, wonderful thing in the world.
     She could feel the play of the muscles in his thighs as he tried not to thrust.  Looking up,
she saw his chest muscles rippling with the movement of his arms.  His head was thrown back
and he was groaning as if in pain.  His indecipherable moans began to take shape, becoming her
name as they grew louder.  He put his hand on her head in a feeble attempt to push her away, but
she ignored him.  As ecstasy overtook him and wrenched away his control, his cries of 'Angel'
grew to a crescendo.  In his last conscious act of protecting his Angel, his fingers dug into, and
tore, the mattress.
     Angela jumped, startled from her memories by the closet door opening.  Rafe stood in
the doorway, holding a struggling, complaining Charlotte in his arms.
     "Put me down, you big oaf!"
     With a wicked smile Rafe complied, releasing Charlotte so suddenly that she landed on
her butt at his feet.  Looking beyond Rafe, Angela saw Ginny fall onto the bed, laughing.  Rafe
shrugged, an endearing lopsided grin on his face.
     "She told me to put her down."
     He chuckled and offered his hand to help Charlotte off the floor.   Glaring up at him, she
cautiously took his hand.  When she had regained her feet, Charlotte started in on him again.
     "You are not a gentleman.  Okay, so that isn't news, but I thought someone should point it
out to you.  You should have the decency to let Angie get a proper wedding dress.  And proper 
gowns for her bridesmaid and maid of honor."
     Rafe rolled his eyes, stepped into the closet with Angela and closed the door behind him. 
It was close quarters in there, and she was pressed up against his hard body.  She wrapped her
arms around his neck and kissed him to show  how much she enjoyed the feeling.  He returned
her kiss, albeit with less passion than she would have liked.  She frowned and stepped back from
him as far as she could, turning slightly hurt eyes to his.
     "This is obviously the only way to get some privacy around here.  Honey, if I kiss you
like I want to, I won't be able to wait till tonight."
     His smile was wicked.
     "And I seem to recall that being important to you."
     Angela suddenly realized what it was that had been bothering her before she had fallen to
Rafe's charms this morning.  They had agreed to no sex until they were married.  She glared at
him, slapping him lightly on the chest.
     "You creep, you promised!"
     He shook his head.
     "I didn't promise anything, Angel.  And even if I had, your performance with that banana
at breakfast would have made me break my word."
     He smiled sheepishly and pulled something from behind his back.
     "I brought you something.  A wedding present, I guess."
     Rafe shrugged and handed Angela the velvet bag he'd had tied to the back of his belt. 
She opened it and pulled out the contents, awe lighting her eyes. On the end of about a yard of
diaphanous white material was a silver tiara, sparkling with sapphires.  Rafe took it from her
hands and placed it atop her head.  Then he smiled.
     "I thought it was pretty so I kept it.  I'm glad I did."
     Looking slightly unsure of himself, Rafe said, "Angel, you don't really want to wait till
you get a fancy gown and all the trimmings, do you?"
     His voice was so filled with hope, it hurt her to hear it.  She placed her hands on the sides
of his face and looked deeply into his eyes.
     "Rafe, I'd marry you in rags.  I love you and I want to tell the whole world.  But," she
smiled, "don't tell Charlotte.  She'd think she hadn't raised me right."
  They turned at a knock on the closet door.  Ginny sounded slightly panicked, but they soon
realized that she was joking.
     "Ange, Char's looking at the guns.  I think she's serious about this not seeing the bride
before the wedding thing."
     Angela laughed, opened the door and motioned Rafe out.  As he left the room, he
laughingly returned Charlotte's glare.  When Charlotte turned her attention to Angela, she saw
the veil and immediately brightened.
     "Well, at least we have something to work with.  Do you think he really saw your dress?"
 Angela didn't think he had even noticed what she was wearing.  She frowned and shook her
head.
     "No, I think his mind was on other things.  Isn't the veil beautiful?  It's my wedding
present."
     "It's gorgeous.  Now let's get started shaping a princess bride out of this lump of clay."
     "Thank you very much!"
     Charlotte laughed.
     "Well, you're a nice lump of clay, but I intend for you to be a masterpiece by the time
we're finished with you."
     Angela gritted her teeth and let her friends work their magic.

     Rafe sent Blade to the mainland for a preacher.  He wasn't sure about the jurisdiction of a
Justice of the Peace, but he figured a religious man had jurisdiction everywhere.  They would
have to wait until he could contact his lawyer to see to the legal details.  They might even have
to get married again on the mainland to make it legal by U.S. standards.  But today would always
be the day his Angel became his bride.
     Rafe stood next to Rat in front of the makeshift altar, shifting uncomfortably in the
midday sun.  It was much too hot to be dressed like this, but he figured the women would
approve.
     Rafe's black suit was of the finest linen, a black silk shirt, red silk tie and black boots
completing the outfit.  He knew he looked good.  He had been told by enough chicks when he
had finished with his business on the mainland and gone looking for a little entertainment.  He
shook his head.  Who would have thought the most important business he would ever conduct in
this suit would be his wedding?
     Rafe jabbed Rat in the side with his elbow.
     "Stop messin' with your collar, boy, you're gonna tear it open."
 Rat looked like he might pass out at any minute.  He pulled his finger from the collar of his
white silk shirt.  His suit and tie were dark blue, his preferred color.  Rafe had bought the suit for
Rat so that Rat could accompany him on business trips.  Although it was perfectly tailored and
looked great, Rat had never been comfortable in it.  Grimacing at Rafe, Rat shoved his hands
into the pockets of the jacket.
     Blade walked down the aisle that the pirates had formed by dragging every chair they
could find from the mansion and lining them up on the front lawn.  He wore black leather pants,
a red silk balloon-sleeved shirt with a laced collar, a wide shiny black leather belt and his black
pirate boots.  He spoke to Rafe as he took a seat in the front row.
     "Ginny says they're as ready as they'll ever be."
     Rafe nodded toward one of his men standing across from him.  The man started playing
the wedding march on his guitar.
     Hearing their cue, Ginny came from the house first, dressed in a black leather mini-skirt
and black lace leotard.  Her mass of red hair was piled artfully on top of her head.  She looked
slightly uncomfortable.
     Charlotte was directly behind Ginny, quietly admonishing her to walk a little more
slowly, they weren't running a race.  She wore a black party dress, its short petticoated skirt
flaring about her thighs.  She was so busy talking, she misjudged the last step, tripping to the
lawn below.  She recovered with admirable aplomb, adjusting her hair like a model.
 Angela appeared on the top step and Rafe's eyes saw only her for the rest of the ceremony.  She
was a vision.  Her white dress fit like a glove, dipping low at the neck in front and back,
exposing her perfect skin.  She wore over-the-elbow white gloves and carried a bouquet of island
flowers bound together with a length of white silk ribbon.  Her hair was piled loosely on her
head with several strands framing her face.  And the sapphire tiara sat atop the mass as a
crowning glory, complementing her tear-shiny eyes.  As she descended the stairs, the diaphanous
veil trailed behind her, blowing in the slight breeze like an angel's wings.
     They stared at each other through the whole ceremony, happiness and admiration shining
in their eyes.  Neither of them really heard the vows, just repeated what they were told.  When
the preacher said to kiss the bride, Rafe took her in his arms and gave her a kiss that declared to
the whole world that she was his.
     When he released her, loud pops sent confetti flying into the air all around them and the
party began.  Whoops and hollers went through the crowd as everyone picked up their chairs and
headed inside to feast on Cook's creations.
     Rat had to lead Charlotte into the house since her eyes were blurry from crying
throughout the ceremony.  He smiled indulgently when she pulled the silk handkerchief from his
pocket and used it to daintily dab at her eyes, leaving smudges of eye makeup.
     Rafe placed two chairs at the head of the table.  Angela smiled as she took her seat next
to him.  He leaned over and whispered to her.
     "Don't get used to it.  From now on, I sit at the head of the table and you sit on my right."
     Angela grinned and nodded, unwilling to argue about anything.  Charlotte was right, she
thought, men could get so riled up about such silly little things.
     The culinary delights coming from the kitchen were delicious.  Angela wondered how
Cook had managed so much with so little preparation time.  Rafe was right, he really was a great
cook.  Everyone was having a good time, stuffing themselves, drinking and laughing.
     Then the first explosion rocked the island.
                                                  Chapter Seventeen

     Chaos reigned for several minutes as everyone tried to get out of the dining room at once. 
Rafe took Angela's arm in a firm grip and pulled her up the stairs to his room.  Once there, he
went to his weapons cabinet and began arming himself, removing his jacket and tossing it
onto the bed.  Another explosion shook the glass in the French doors.  Rafe cursed.
      "Rafe, what's happening?"
     Angela wasn't certain how serious the situation might be, since Rafe seemed calm and in
control.  He turned to her and the red-hot anger showing in his eyes told her that someone
was in deep trouble.
     "Stay here until I get back.  No argument!  Stay here!"
     He pulled her into his arms in a fiercely possessive embrace, kissed her roughly, then
released her and left the room before she could voice any protestations.
     Angela went out on the balcony to see if she could get any idea what might be happening. 
She walked around to the front of the house where she could see Rafe standing in the middle
of his band of pirates, giving orders.  When he looked up and saw her standing there, his deep
frown spoke volumes.  His yell scared the birds from their perches in the nearby trees.
     "Get the hell back in that room, Angel, and stay there!"
     Now Angela was frightened.  The tone of his voice, the underlying concern, told her better
than words that this was a very dangerous situation.  She turned and ran back to their
bedroom, closing the French doors behind her.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she held Rafe's
jacket to her breast, trying to still the fearful trembling of her body.  She jumped, a squeak
escaping her lips, as another explosion shook the mansion.
     The door from the hall opened and Charlotte and Ginny raced into the room.  They came
straight to the bed, sitting on either side of her.  Charlotte looked slightly shocky, Ginny just
looked scared.  They all jumped when another explosion echoed through the room. 
Charlotte's voice shook with panic.
      "Angie, do you have any idea what's going on?"
      Angela shook her head.
      "Rafe just grabbed his guns and ran out of here.  He told me to stay here until he came
back.  Dammit, I wish those awful explosions would stop!"
      Angela got her wish, though she wasn't happy with the replacement.  Now they heard
gunfire coming from the direction of the dock.  Ginny stood and went to the open weapons
cabinet.  She surveyed the available arsenal, then started pulling out her choices.  Angela
stood and went to her side.
       "Gin, what are you doing?"
      Ginny gave her a look of grim determination, then handed her a Mac-10.  Angela took it
and two clips of ammunition.  Though she was afraid, Ginny didn't let it show.
      "I think we better be ready in case whatever is happening out there starts happening in
here.  Char, you gonna be any help?"
      Charlotte looked up from the bed.  She quickly took in the looks on their faces and the
guns in their hands and surmised their intentions.  She paled and said in a shaky voice,  "I
don't know."
      Ginny walked to her, handed her a pistol and, in a flat voice, said, "If they get in here, it
will probably mean they've killed anybody who tried to stop them."
      Charlotte's eyes widened.
      "Rat?"
      Ginny nodded.  Charlotte took the gun and slid the hammer back, injecting a bullet into
the chamber.  Her eyes becoming dry, she raised her chin.  Her soft words were full of hatred.
      "If they've hurt Rat, I'll kill the bastards!"
      Ginny gave her a curt nod, then went to the French doors.  As she was reaching for the
lever, the doors flew open, sending Ginny sprawling to the floor.  Charlotte jumped to her
feet, bringing her gun up in front of her.  Angela spun, dropping the clips, and raised the Mac
to her friends' defense.  There was no one standing in the doorway.  Angela took a cautious
step toward Ginny.
      "Gin, what...?"
      A harsh, heavily accented male voice came from the balcony.
      "Throw down your weapon, perra, or we open fire!"
      Angela realized that they were all sitting ducks.  The bed would afford Charlotte little
protection against bullets, and she and Ginny would never reach cover in time.  Angela
dropped the Mac.  It hit the floor with a resounding thud.  Charlotte followed her lead, tossing
the pistol on the bed.  Ginny, laying flat on her back in front of the open doors mumbled,
"shit!" and tossed her handgun out and over the balcony with a vengeance, then stood and
backed up to stand next to Angela.  Charlotte moved to Angela's other side.  Angela spoke,
trying to keep her voice level.
      "All right, we're unarmed."
      Slowly, leading with the barrels of their automatic weapons, four dark-skinned
dangerous-looking men rounded the balcony doors.  One of them held his weapon on the
women while the other three did a quick search of the room.  When they found nothing, the
one watching the women turned his head toward the yard and yelled, "Claro".
      A tall, thin man came into the room.  He walked with the air of a man who has always
been bowed to, obeyed.  His white linen suit was impeccable, his alligator boots mirror
perfect.  He carried no weapon.  He strode into the room, surveying his surroundings with
obvious disdain.  His eyes found Angela and slid over her with a hungry look.  Angela
shivered, feeling as though she had just taken a swim in an oil slick.  His voice was cool and
contemptuous.
      "So, these must be the great pirate's putas.  We haven't time to properly introduce
ourselves," he sneered,  "ladies.  You will have to wait until later to earn your keep."
      He addressed his men in what Angela knew was Spanish, since she had heard 'puta' in a
movie and knew it meant 'whore' in Spanish.  Fear kept her anger from fully flaring at this
insult.
      The men roughly grabbed her and her friends and shoved them toward the balcony. 
Several lengths of rope hung from grappling hooks off the railing.  The leader placed his foot
into a loop on the end of one of these ropes, stepped over the railing and was lowered to the
ground by his minions.  Then a rope was tied around each woman's waist and they were
lowered to the ground, where men waited to remove the ropes and drag them to the dock.
      Angela looked everywhere for signs of Rafe.  They passed the bullet riddled bodies of
several of his men and, she noted with a satisfied smile, even more Hispanic looking bodies. 
When they reached the dock, Angela was relieved to see that only one of the pirates'
speedboats was in the cove, and it wasn't Rafe's.  She was wondering where he could be
when she heard another explosion that sounded far away.  Their captors' leader smiled as he
looked toward the explosion, then turned to the women.
      "My little diversion worked quite well, don't you think?  I not only recovered my
property," he motioned toward a pile of packages his men were loading onto their speedboats,
"but we got ourselves a little bonus.  The few  pirates left here to protect this place were easily
destroyed."
      Angela raised her chin, anger flaring in her eyes.
      "That's why your men are lying dead all over the place."
      He stepped forward and slapped Angela across the face, cutting her lip.  She would have
fallen if one of the guards hadn't held her arms.  Of course, he was holding her so that his
boss could hit her again if he so desired.  Licking the blood from her lip, she narrowed her
eyes as he stepped closer to her.
      "You had best learn to watch your tongue, senorita, or you may find it wrapped around
your pretty neck.  I think I will take a personal interest in taming you."
      He ran his finger over Angela's cheek and down her neck, heading for her breast, which
was just this side of totally exposed where her dress had slipped with all the activity.
      "I'd rather die than have you touch me, you low-life pusher!"
      Angela gathered what little saliva she could find in her mouth and spit in his face.  His
eyes on fire, he raised his hand to strike her again.  Not even flinching, Angela's eyes flared
pure hatred.  The Columbian's face turned utterly evil and he said something in Spanish.  One
of the men handed him a pistol.  Angela stiffened, not willing to believe that he would shoot
her in cold blood.  She watched in total horror as he pointed the gun at Ginny.
      Ginny realized at the last minute that she had become expendable.  The man holding her
stepped away, and Ginny jumped as the gun roared, the force of the bullet lifting her off her
feet, sending her up and back to land with a splash in the water.
      Angela screamed, a sound Charlotte echoed.  Both tried to go to their friend's rescue, but
were held fast by the guards.  The man that had held Ginny watched the water, waiting to see
if she would surface so he could finish the job.  He turned to their leader with a shrug.
      Angela jumped as sharp fingers clutched her chin.  Her face was pulled around to meet
the Columbian's eyes.
      "You have one friend left, puta, I suggest you use her wisely."
      He laughed, the most evil sound Angela had ever heard, and began issuing orders in
Spanish.  She and Charlotte were put on the back seat of one of the speedboats.  As soon as
they were released, Charlotte threw her arms around Angela and started crying her eyes out,
mumbling almost incoherently between sobs about how unfair it was, how young Ginny had
been.
      Angela let tears of grief run down her face unchecked.  But she didn't make a sound, just
stared unblinking at the back of the man who had just murdered her friend.  A man she swore
had a very short life expectancy.
       The pirates stealthily traversed the path to the dock, finding no opposition along the way. 
Once at the dock, they found no unknown craft present.  They heard another explosion,
pinpointed it as coming from the other side of the island.  Rafe glared in that direction.
      "They must not know where the entrance to the bay is.  Good.  Let's go give 'em a
welcoming party.  Diamond, you and your crew stay here, just in case they should get lucky. 
If you get in trouble, fire a flare and we'll come back.  The rest of you, follow me."
      They had to go halfway around the island to find the source of the explosions.  When they
saw fires burning on the shore, they were forced to slow their speedboats and carefully
maneuver them close enough to shore to allow Rafe and Blade to jump into the water and
gain the land.
      Approaching the sight of the fires cautiously, both men were tossed to the ground by
another explosion.  Rafe stood and shook his head to clear it.  He looked to Blade, but his
friend was already getting back on his feet, cursing a blue streak.
      "What the hell is going on?  No boats, no men, who's shootin' at us?"
      Rafe yelled, "Rat, toss me the binoculars."
      Rat complied and Rafe used the magnifying devices to peruse the pockmarked shore.  He
saw a metal box, about the size of a shoebox, some distance from them.  It was definitely out
of place.  Apprehension began to tug at the corners of his mind.
      "Chris, come here!"
      Their demolitions man jumped into the water and made his way to his leader's side.  Rafe
handed him the binoculars, pointing him in the right direction.
      "See that metal box by the treeline?"
      Adjusting the lenses, Chris nodded.  He lowered the binoculars and raised his nose into
the air, sniffing.
      "That's C-4.  Somethin's not right here, Rafe.  That stuff's used with some kind of
detonator, a timer maybe.  Ya don't toss it like a grenade."
      "Rafe!"
      At Rat's panicked yell, Rafe turned to see Rat pointing at the sky.  Knowing what he
would see, and dreading it, Rafe turned his attention to the sky over the mansion where he
had left Angel, and saw the tail end of a flare.
      Rafe's gut clenched, his mouth went dry and his chest constricted.  They'd been tricked! 
As he began running toward his boat, he yelled, "We've been had!  Get back to the house. 
Move!"
      They made top speed back to the cove.  Roaring up to the dock with little caution, Rafe
jumped from the boat before it had come to a stop, leaving Rat to secure it.  He ran to the
house, barely noticing the bodies that littered the path, noting only that they were not female. 
He tore into the mansion and up the stairs, flinging open the door to his bedroom and yelling,
"Angel!"  The room was empty, the open French doors giving mute testimony to what had
happened.
      Rafe ran to the balcony and looked down at the yard, as if it might tell him where his wife
was, what had happened to her.  His hands gripping the railing, his knuckles turning white,
Rafe dropped back his head and gave the howl of a wounded animal.
      He turned back into the room, thinking he would search it, try to find a clue to where
Angel had been taken.  Standing just inside the French doors, he saw her veil and bouquet
lying on the bed.  He remembered her laughing about throwing the bouquet after dinner, how
Charlotte would probably pull a gun on anyone who got within a mile of it.  He leaned down
and touched the cold gems of the tiara.  Something wet dropped onto the fragile material of
the veil.  Rafe clutched the tiara, brought it to his face.  He could smell his Angel.
      Tears flowing silently down his face, Rafe dropped the veil to the bed.  His mind began to
overload with images he couldn't bear to face.  Angel hurt, crying out for him.  Angel in
another man's arms, being forced to... With a scream of pure rage, Rafe began destroying his
room.  Anything breakable was sacrificed to his uncontrolled anger--thrown to the floor,
against the wall, whatever was necessary to hear the satisfying crash.  He pulled books from
shelves, tipped the shelves themselves to the floor.  Only the bed, where Angel's veil and
bouquet lay, was left untouched.
      Finally, exhausted, Rafe fell to his knees on the debris-littered floor, pulling her veil into
his hands and holding it against his face.
      When the horrible noise ceased, Rat cautiously opened the door into Rafe's room.  He
wasn't too surprised by what he saw, since he had been standing outside, listening to Rafe's
yells and sobs of pain, for the last ten minutes.  Rat sat on the floor beside his friend, the
picture of dejection.
      "Charlotte and Ginny are gone, too.  They must have been after the coke.  It's gone.  What
are we gonna do, Rafe?"
      Rafe took a deep, calming breath, willing the anger to leave him and replacing it with
determination and lethal hatred.  He turned cold, dark eyes on Rat, his voice quiet and hard.
      "Call Jenkins, find out everything he knows about the owner of that shipment.  Tell him
he'll be well rewarded for his information," his eyes narrowed, "but he'd better not hold
anything back or I'll find him.  And tell him if he had anything to do with this, or if he warns
them, there's no place in hell he can hide from me."
      Rafe stood, offering his hand to help Rat up.  Rat took it, a little afraid of the slightly
crazed look in Rafe's dark eyes.
      "Tell the men to get ready for a raid.  Get the boats ready for a long haul, everyone armed
to the max.  And have Chris get a couple cases of grenades from the cache."
      Rat looked at him with wide eyes.  He sounded desperate.
      "But, Rafe, we can't blow 'em up.  The women might get hurt."
      If possible, Rafe's eyes became even colder.
      "We'll find our women and make sure they're safe, Rat, then we're gonna blow these
bastards to Kingdom Come.  Move!"
      Rat needed no more encouragement.  He ran from the room, figuring that the sooner they
got moving, the sooner Charlotte would be safe.
      Rafe pulled the veil from the floor where he had left it.  He brushed it across his face,
inhaling Angel's fragrance one last time, then carefully laid the veil on the bed next to her
bridal bouquet.  His whisper was full of emotion he hadn't known he possessed.
      "I love you, Angel.  I'm coming for you, baby, trust me.  And if anybody's touched you,
God help them!"
      With that, he began changing his clothes, transforming from the happy bridegroom into
the ruthless pirate captain.





                                                             Chapter Eighteen

     Ginny held her breath, gritting her teeth against the pain in her side, and kicked to propel
herself downward.  She figured if she came to the surface now, one of those Columbian bastards
would surely be waiting to finish her off.  If she could swim beneath the dock, she should be
able to surface safely.
     When she opened her eyes, the saltwater stung like the Dickens.  She swam toward the
darkest area she could find, assuming that the dock would keep the sun from reaching the ocean
beneath it.  Her lungs screaming for air, she looked up through the water and saw what she
hoped were the wooden planks of the dock overhead.  Ginny gave a silent prayer of thanks as she
raised her face from the water and took several quick breaths, resisting the urge to take large,
loud gulps of air.
     Ginny treaded water for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the roar of the Colombians'
speedboat engines to recede.  By the time they left, the muscles in her arms and legs were almost
numb from the constant movement necessary to keep her afloat.
     Hoping they were far enough away that they couldn't look back and see her, but certain she
didn't have much energy left, Ginny cautiously moved from beneath the dock and swam to the
shore.  She crawled up the beach until she was just beyond the reach of the ocean, then sprawled
on her stomach in the sand.
     Resting, trying to gain enough strength to get up and walk to the house, Ginny felt instant
terror upon hearing engines coming into the cove.  Were they coming back for her, to make sure
she was dead?  With her last ounce of strength, she raised herself to her hands and knees and
slowly crawled several feet into the cover of the jungle.  Hoping she was out of sight of the dock,
unable to go any farther even if she weren't, Ginny collapsed, losing consciousness.
     Watching Rafe lose his mind and run up the path with Rat in close pursuit, Blade decided he
had to keep a cool head.  Whatever had happened, and he didn't like to think what that might be,
running off half-cocked wouldn't do anybody any good.
     Blade took charge, seeing that all the speedboats were secured, everyone properly armed
before they headed into what might be a danger zone.  He was starting up the path to the house,
the rest of the pirates following behind him, when he caught a movement in the jungle out of the
corner of his eye.  Not wanting to leave Rafe and Rat unprotected any longer, he motioned the
men on ahead while he cautiously stalked into the jungle to check it out.
     Coming up from the beach, Blade could make out drag marks in the sand.  He crouched,
sensing danger.  Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the area where he thought he'd seen the
movement.  He'd know that black leather mini-skirt anywhere.
     Suddenly Blade was up and running, throwing caution to the wind as he crashed through the
jungle to get to Ginny.  He fell to his knees beside her still body, gently taking her into his arms
and turning her to face him.  He felt something wet on his hand and was kicked into a near rage
by the sight of the blood coming from a wound on her side.
     Carefully lowering Ginny to the ground, Blade felt her throat for a pulse, smiled when he
found it was strong.  He grasped the bloody lace of her leotard and tore it to expose her side. 
Feeling around the edges of the wound, Blade tried to determine what had caused it and how bad
it was.  Her rather flat voice startled him.
     "Ow."
     He looked at her and the fear and anger mingling in his eyes made her want to comfort him. 
She laughed, not a particularly good idea in terms of pain, at the idea that she should be
comforting him when she was the one who had been shot.  His voice was unusually soft, a little
desperate.
     "What happened, baby?"
     He pulled his shirt over his head as he spoke, balling it up and pressing it tightly against the
wound.  This drew a wince of pain from Ginny.  She raised an eyebrow.
     "That's sanitary, there are probably only a million germs on your shirt.  I got shot, that's what
happened!"
     She started to rise but thought better of it when the movement caused new pain and a wave of
dizziness.  She reached out to Blade, wanting to hold on to something solid.  He scooped her into
his arms, stood and started back toward the beach.  Although it was backtracking a little, there
would be less foliage in their way if they used the path.  He didn't want to take the chance of
Ginny getting cut by the jungle flora.
     Ginny wrapped her arms around Blade's neck.  She wasn't sure how she knew, but she was
certain that he'd take good care of her.  He was tough, could be real hard to get along with
sometimes, but she sensed she could count on him when she needed him.
     Blade carried Ginny to his room in the mansion and laid her on his bed.  He pulled his shirt
from her side and started poking at the wound again.  Ginny jumped with the pain and tried to
push his hand away.
     "Do you mind?  That's a bullet hole, I need a doctor."
     He glowered at her, then went into the bathroom, returning with his hands full of medical
paraphernalia.  He dumped it next to Ginny and knelt on the floor beside the bed.  Without a
word, he began removing her skirt.  Ginny watched him curiously as he none too carefully pulled
off her shoes, then her elastic-topped nylons.  He unsheathed his hunting knife, slid it into the
hole that he had torn in her leotard, and cut it from her body, causing her surprisingly little pain.
     "Now you get the doctor?"
     He glared up at her, then sighed and shrugged.
     "Four years in medical school will have to do, babe.  The bullet just grazed you.  All it needs
is to be cleaned and bandaged."  He grinned at her.  "The rest of you looks okay."
     She gave him a sarcastic smile in return.
     "I'm so glad you approve.  Are you trying to tell me you went to medical school?"
     Her voice dripped incredulity.  As he prepared the disinfectant and bandages he had brought
from the bathroom, he looked up at her, tossing his hair behind his shoulders, and smiled.
     "Yeah, but they didn't like what I kept doin' to the cadavers, so they threw me out."
     Ginny grimaced.
     "You are a very sick man.  Did you get caught with one of the female professors, or what?"
     Ginny concentrated on their conversation, ignoring the pain as best she could as he poured
what she was certain was acid over her wound.
     "I didn't quit, I was asked to leave.  They found out I was doin' a little extra credit on the side,
helpin' some of the girls in my neighborhood who got themselves in trouble."
     He shrugged at her questioning look.
     "I figured at least I knew a little bit about what I was doin'.  The bastards doin' it in the alley,
they didn't know a scalpel from a pair of scissors.  Their anesthetic was usually a bottle of cheap
booze.  They were using coat hangers, for God's sake!"
     He glared into space, his eyes filling with the pain and anger of a memory.  His voice grew
hard.
     "I was workin' at a hospital, makin' extra points.  I watched a friend bleed to death 'cause she
didn't have the money to get it done right, and she couldn't tell her proper Catholic parents that
she and her boyfriend hadn't been just studyin' all those nights in her room.  The ER doc said
she'd been cut to pieces."
     He looked at Ginny, returning to the present, and shrugged.
     "So I told a few of the kids in my neighborhood that I was available.  The chicks were gonna
do it anyway, they were young, stupid and desperate."
     He finished taping a bandage over Ginny's wound, then sat on the bed beside her.  He looked
sad, his voice softening as he spoke.
     "The day final grades came out, I got called to the Dean's office.  He said that the school
couldn't afford to be involved in a scandal, so they weren't going to notify the authorities of my
illegal activities.  I would be allowed to leave quietly, as long as I never tried to practice
medicine in the U.S.  I tried to explain, to tell him about the alley abortions.  He looked at me
like I'd crawled out of a gutter somewhere and said there were reasonably priced clinics to
handle such things."
     He laughed, a sad, sarcastic sound.
     "Then I got it.  They don't give a damn about people, they just want their money.  They didn't
want me giving away something they could make a buck off of.  So they flushed four years of
my life down the toilet.  I told the Dean to shove it and walked out."
     Blade stood and roughly filled his hands with tape and bandages and such, returning them to
the bathroom.  He went to the closet, got another shirt and pulled it on.  Then he came back to sit
on the bed and examine his handiwork.  Ginny pushed the hair back from one side of his face. 
His expression had returned to his normal 'who cares'.
     "What did you do then?"
     Blade laughed with no mirth.
     "I got stupid.  I decided if I couldn't be a doctor, I'd be a pharmacist."
     He smiled at her, then looked at the ground, shame in his voice.
     "I started pushin'.  Got lucky, made some good connections.  In a year, I'd made it out to
Florida, learned how to handle a hopped-up Scarab.  I was making regular runs, bringing the
stuff into shore from a freighter anchored beyond the limit.  It's a good set-up, they still use it.  I
was on the freighter when Rafe took it.  I got hit by a flying body, knocked down some stairs and
out cold."
     Blade laughed, his expression brightening.
     "Rat figured I was dead.  He thought one of my knives was pretty, so he started to take it off
my belt.  When I grabbed his hand, they probably heard the scream on the mainland."
     Ginny laughed, picturing Rat's face.  She winced a little and Blade frowned.
     "Rafe was right behind Rat, so I didn't get the chance to cut him.  Rafe stepped on my crotch
and told me not to move.  Then he asked me if I wanted to be a pirate.  I told him I already had a
job.  So he says, 'Fine.  You're fired' and points his gun at my head.  I could tell by lookin' at him
that he meant it, Rafe don't bluff, so I said I'd been thinkin' o' makin' a career change.  I guess
Rafe got teed off when I didn't jump at the opportunity he was presenting, 'cause he gives me one
of his squinty-eyed looks, and says, 'Give me one good reason I oughta take you on.'  I told him I
was a doctor.  Right then, Rat sneezes and says how great it'll be to have a real doctor around,
can I do something for a cold?  So, here I am."
     Ginny smiled, realizing that she had actually felt very little pain after the first acid bath. 
Blade had a very nice touch.
     "Why are you called 'Blade'?"
     "Rafe figures if anybody ever gets away from us, there's no way they can get a handle on
anybody if we always use nicknames.  Some of the guys don't care so they use their real names. 
I got family back home.  I wouldn't want anything to happen to them 'cause of me.  I already
embarrassed them enough."
     Pain flashed over his handsome features, then was gone.
     "Anyway, I told Rafe once that I wanted to be a surgeon.  He said he figured, in light of my
past, I wouldn't want to be called 'Doc'.  So he called me Blade.  It fit."
     Ginny jumped as a loud crash came from down the hall.  Blade looked in the direction of the
sound, then smiled and shook his head.
     "Rafe's mad.  We'll be headin' out soon.  Tell me how you got shot, babe."
     Ginny related the incident with the Colombians, trying to remember every detail in case it
might be of help in rescuing her friends.  Blade's face stayed neutral until she told him of the
shooting.  Then she was surprised to see rage darken his features.  He pulled her into his arms,
careful of her side, and kissed her deeply.  Pushing her head to his chest, he held her against him
for several minutes, neither of them moving.  Then he gently laid her back on the bed and,
pulling the covers out from under her, spread them over her body.
     "I don't know how long we'll be gone.  I'll tell Cook to keep an eye on you till I get back."
     Ginny sat up in the bed, started to throw off the covers.
     "I want to go with you.  Ange and Char may need me."
     Blade's hands closed on her shoulders and pushed her down.  Ginny tried to resist but it was
like trying to resist gravity.  He replaced the covers over her, then pointed his finger at her face.
     "You're in no shape to go anywhere.  Even if you were, I wouldn't let you."
     Ginny's eyes flared, her voice rising in outrage.
     "You do not tell me what to do!  I can handle a gun as well as any of you can, maybe better.  I
can climb a rope, I can swim.  Give me a few minutes, I bet I could handle one of your fancy
boats like a pro."
     Blade glared down at her, his face flushing in anger.
     "Maybe you could, but you're not going to.  You're gonna stay here and heal, if I have to tie
you to that bed!  They don't need you and you don't have ta prove anything to anybody, so chill
out!  Dammit, you're not a man!  You're a chick, why don't you try acting like one?"
     Ginny gasped, her eyes wide in astonishment.
     "What would you suggest, tears and fainting spells?"
     Blade was yelling now.
     "No, you dumb bitch, let your man take care of you!"
     Looking incredulous, yet slightly hopeful, Ginny whispered.
     "Are you my man?"
     Blade looked deeply into her eyes, sea green meeting dark grey.  He spoke softly in a husky
voice.
     "Yeah, baby, I'm your man.  You belong to me.  It's my job to keep you safe."
     His voice and eyes hardened.
     "I'll make 'em pay for what they did to you.  Stay here and get better, baby.  I'll be back."
     He leaned one knee on the side of the bed and bent to kiss her.  Ginny threw her arms around
his neck, hugging him to her as though her life depended on it.
     "Please be careful.  I don't want to be a widow before I'm a wife."
     Blade rolled his eyes to the ceiling.  He mumbled, "I told him chicks always do things
together."  Pulling the covers to her chin, he laid the back of his hand softly against Ginny's
cheek and smiled down at her.  Then he turned and left.
     Settling against the pillow, Ginny smiled.  Deep down, she knew Blade was right, she
couldn't be much help in her present condition.  She did need rest.
     Something he'd said was bothering her.  His statement that she didn't have to prove anything
to anybody hit too close to home.  Ginny frowned, twisting the sheet in her hands.  Had she been
trying to prove something to him?  Old habits die hard.
     Growing up the youngest, and only girl, in a family of five kids had meant a lot of proving
herself tough enough to be included in the fun.  Her brothers didn't want any crybabies along to
spoil things.  They also played lots of jokes on her, so she had learned to be cautious, never to
react too drastically or show too much emotion.
     She had always thought of herself as cool-headed and self-sufficient.  It seemed the definition
of independent for a woman was 'alone'.  It had taken Blade, a strong man who wasn't afraid to
say exactly what he felt, to point out the chip on her shoulder.  She'd always tried to better men
at their own game.  Now she had found one that she couldn't beat.
     Ginny smiled as she realized that this was one battle she didn't mind losing, was even happy
to concede, if it meant having that difficult, wonderful man nearby.
     She drifted off into the sleep she so badly needed, remembering his gentle touch, and
wondering what it was that 'chicks always do together'.
                             Chapter Nineteen

     "Do you think Rat's dead, too?"
     Angela had to restrain herself from strangling Charlotte.  She understood that Char was scared, but did she
have to be so negative?  Angela refused to believe that Ginny was dead.  She had told Charlotte that, but
Charlotte insisted on dwelling on the worst.
     With difficulty, Angela pulled her eyes from their ritual of staring hatefully at the back of the Columbian
leader to turn and look at Charlotte.  She was surprised to see anger simmering in Char's eyes.  Angela's first
instinct was to reassure Charlotte that Rat was alive and well, even if she wasn't too sure of that herself. 
However, considering the situation, she thought it might be a good idea to encourage Char's anger.  Hard
feelings might help Charlotte keep strong through whatever lay ahead of them.
     "I don't know, Char.  I didn't see his body on the path."
     Angela grimaced with the memory of the bullet-riddled bodies lining the path on Rafe's island.  She had
known those men, shared her wedding feast with them just hours before seeing them lying there dead. 
Suddenly life seemed so fragile, so quickly snuffed out by the likes of these drug pushers.  Was Rafe lying
somewhere with his blood pouring into the sand?  Knowing those thoughts could only lead to utter despair,
Angela shook her head, bringing her mind back to the matter at hand.
     "I'm sure Rat's with Rafe, Char, and I bet he'd be proud of how you handled yourself."
     Eyes shining with a tiny flame of hope, Charlotte raised her chin a notch and glared at the other occupants of
the speedboat.  The dark man loosely holding an M-16 on them grinned and smacked his lips.  Charlotte stuck
her tongue out at him, bringing laughter from the men who witnessed it.
     "Ooh, chica peligroso."
     Since many romance novels used Spanish endearments, Charlotte had learned a modicum of the language. 
She smiled sarcastically at his reference to her being dangerous.
     "You could at least have the decency to speak English."
     Another of the men spoke, wanting to show off his mastery of that language.  His leer made Charlotte's
throat tighten.
     "He says you are a dangerous woman.  I like my women hot."
     Deciding not to give away that she understood Spanish in case it might come in handy in the future,
Charlotte just glared at him, then dismissively turned to Angela.  She dropped her voice as far as she could and
still be heard over the roar of the speedboat's engines.  Her voice had a desperate edge to it.
     "Angie, we have to get out of this.  I don't think I could stand it if one of these disgusting creatures laid his
hands on me.  Not after Rat."
     Tears threatened, but Charlotte gulped and forced them to the back of her mind.  Angela had that look she
always got when she was deep in thought.  When she looked into Charlotte's eyes, determination sparked deep
in Angela's sapphire gaze, and resonated in her hushed voice.
     "I know you're not going to like what I have to say, but hear me out.  Rafe will come for us, I know he will. 
We have to keep ourselves alive and in one piece until he can rescue us.  I think the best way to do that is to
encourage one of these," Angela sneered, "gentlemen, make them think we're interested."
     Angela brought her hands up in front of her to stave off Charlotte's protest.
     "I know, I don't like it either.  But I can handle the idea of one of them a lot better than I can deal with the
picture of the whole gang making a party of it.  They seem very competitive.  I figure if you come on to one of
them, there'll be a fight if anyone else tries to horn in on his opportunity.  That would buy us even more time."
     "What about you?"
     Angela's look was grim, as though she were going to a funeral.
     "I'll do the same thing with the leader."
     Charlotte looked around, then back at Angela.  Charlotte's complexion was very pale, her voice taut and on
the verge of tears.
     "I think I'd rather take my chances with the sharks.  Oh, Angie, will they want us back if we have to...to...I
think I'm going to be sick!"
     Angela put her hands on Charlotte's shoulders, forcing Charlotte to look her in the eye, and squeezed hard. 
Her words rang with suppressed emotion.
     "You are not going to be sick.  You're going to do whatever you have to do to help Rafe and Rat.  We both
are.  Now pick one and turn on your best heroine charm."
     Angela softened her tone a little, patted her friend on the back.  She put a lot more belief in her voice than
she felt in her heart.
     "Of course they'll want us back, Char.  It won't matter what happens.  As long as we're alive, they'll want us
back."
     Charlotte gave Angela a dubious sideways glance, then let her eyes slide slyly to the man who had spoken
English to them.  Looking back at Angela, she shrugged and tried to inject some hope into her tone.
     "At least there's one I can talk to."
     Charlotte turned back his way, casting a coy glance at his face, then fluttered her lashes and dropped her
eyes.  She even managed a slight blush.  Still looking down, she asked Angela, "How am I doing?"
     Angela smiled, pushing away the apprehension she knew would only weaken her.
     "Just fine.  I think you've intrigued him."
     As Charlotte continued her coquettish play, quickly claiming the man's complete attention, Angela
considered what they might have to do to stay alive until help arrived.  She knew she had no choice, the
Columbian leader had made that quite clear.  She was to be his plaything.
     Shivering with revulsion, Angela wondered if she could go through with it, do whatever was necessary to
stay healthy until Rafe came for her.  The niggling thought that he might not come attempted to strike terror in
her heart, but she held it at bay with the memory of his eyes as he kissed her at their wedding.  She swore she'd
seen love smoldering in that dark gaze.  Rafe had declared to the world that she was his.  He was not one to let
anybody take something away from him.  Yes, Angela smiled, he would come for her.
     The fear that Charlotte had voiced caused Angela's heart to clench painfully.  Her glare turned once more to
the Columbian leader.  She was certain Rafe would come for her.  But if she had to give herself to this slimy
man, lay in his arms to save her life, would her pirate captain still want her?

     The information Rat gathered from a slightly frightened Jenkins was satisfyingly complete.  The cocaine had
been the property of the Cartenza cartel.  Julio Cartenza was the current boss, but Gregory Cartenza, his son,
actually ran the business.  Gregory lived in a villa on the northern coast of Colombia.  The place was supposed
to be a veritable fortress, its only vulnerable spot, the dock, heavily guarded.  Jenkins even faxed them an aerial
shot of the place, taken by the DEA.
     By all accounts, Gregory Cartenza was a ruthless son-of-a-bitch.  It was rumored that rape, male or female,
was his favorite pastime.  He usually left his victims broken and bleeding, soon to die.
     Relating that last bit of news to Rafe was something Rat would gladly have paid someone else to do. 
Unfortunately, there wasn't time to find anyone willing to take the bribe.  Rat stood next to Rafe at the dining
table.  The refuse of the wedding party had been pushed to the side of the room so the pirates could spread their
maps on the table and make their battle plans.  Rafe turned from leaning over the table studying the maps and
pinned Rat with intense eyes.
     "What have you got?"
     Rat related everything Jenkins had told him, wincing a little when he got to the part about Cartenza's
penchant for rape.  Rafe's eyes showed nothing, no emotion at all.  Rat's frown, constant since learning that
Charlotte had been taken, deepened.  When Rafe was that cool, it meant that he was holding himself under tight
control.  Rat knew from past experience that Rafe's control would slip eventually, and someone would have hell
to pay.  Things were going to get ugly.  Rafe's quiet voice interrupted Rat's thoughts.
     "Is he being straight with us?"
     Rat nodded.
     "Oh, yeah.  I told him what you said about coming for him.  He was too scared to lie.  And he's greedy, he
wants his reward, so I'm pretty sure the information's good.  Uh, Rafe...?"
     Rafe raised an eyebrow at Rat's nervous tone.
     "Yeah."
     "Rajid's here.  He apologized for being late, said his flight plans got altered.  Do you want to show him the
crewman from the yacht, or do you want me to?"
     Rat would rather have walked through a burning building naked than deal with the black-market slaver,
Rajid.  The tone of his question reflected his dislike of the man.  Rafe gave him a slight grin.  Rat noticed it
didn't quite reach his eyes.
     "Tell him we don't have anything for him this time.  The crewman from," a shadow of pain passed across
Rafe's eyes, a sad smile tugging at one corner of his lips,  "Angel's yacht has decided to join us.  And tell him if
he can't be on time, don't bother to come at all.  Then get back here as fast as you can."
     Rat grinned and hurried to complete his mission, for once happy to deal with Rajid.  When he returned to the
dining room, Rafe was studying the aerial photo of the Cartenza villa.  He laid it on top of one of their maps,
mentally calculating the exact placement of the villa, then straightened, drawing the attention of the men
milling about the room.  Rafe's voice boomed with absolute authority.
     "Okay, everybody, listen up.  We'll go through Windward Pass, Haiti never asks questions, and if they do, I'll
have enough money with me to answer 'em.  From there we head on down to Colombia.  Any questions?"
     Rafe gave each man their assignment, detailing his plan for the invasion of the Cartenza property.  He
stressed the need for caution to keep the women safe.  Each team left to see to the readiness of their boats.
     Rafe turned to find Blade and Rat still in the room.  Blade looked grim.
     "We're gonna use the grenade launcher to take out the guards?  If they process the stuff nearby, they'll have a
lot of chemicals laying around.  They could start a chain reaction that'll blow the whole place away."
     Rafe looked Blade in the eye, anger and anguish blending in his gaze.
     "I know.  But there must be thirty men surrounding that dock in this picture.  If we get close enough for them
to open fire, we'll be massacred before we can even get a shot off.  It's the only way."
     Rat looked panicked.
     "But Rafe, if we blow the place up, Charlotte and Angela will get fried!"
     Rafe's eyes flared, his tenuous control on his anger slipping just a little.  He roared at Rat, "And if we don't
get in there soon, that bastard will have his fun with them and it won't matter anymore!"
     Rat looked at the ground, clenching his fists in frustration.  He looked up when Rafe put his hand on his
shoulder.  Rafe's eyes were so full of pain, Rat felt his own eyes start to fill with tears.
     "I know what could happen, Rat."
     Rafe's voice dropped, despair muffling his words.
     "But if we leave them in Cartenza's hands long enough to come up with a less dangerous plan, he'll... God,
Rat, I don't want that to happen to her.  I should've known it was a trick, should've left more men to guard
them."
     Blade spoke in a soft voice.
     "You did the right thing, man, you know you did.  Don't start trying to second guess yourself, Rafe, or you'll
mess yourself up.  You're a good leader, man.  I trust you with my life.  Let's go get your lady."
     Rafe smiled at Blade, a grateful smile, then slapped Rat on the back.
     "Yeah, let's go raise some hell!"
                                                                             Chapter Twenty

     To Angela and Charlotte, it seemed as though they had been riding in that boat forever; however, do to the
high-powered engines of the smuggler craft, it had taken only seven or eight hours to reach the shores of
Colombia.
     Charlotte had eventually struck up a conversation with the man she had chosen to pursue in order to protect
herself from gang rape.  His English was broken - shattered was more like it - so Charlotte used body language
to get her suggestions across.  By the time they reached the shores of Colombia, Charlotte's conquest was
complete.
     The Columbian leader glared at Angela several times during the long journey, and she had tried to look
properly scared and willing to cooperate.  Her stomach kept telling her that if she had to let that man touch her,
she would surely spend the rest of her life throwing up.  All-in-all, her wedding aside, it was not turning out to
be a very good day.
     The sun was setting on the lush Columbian landscape as the two women were unceremoniously hauled from
the speedboat like bags of potatoes, then roughly shoved along a dock, up some stairs and into a house styled
after a Spanish villa.  If it hadn't belonged to such slime, Angela would have thought it quite pretty.  As it was,
the awful man's essence seemed to pervade the large white house, causing the very walls to feel oily and evil.
     The interior of the house was nearly all white, including the furniture.  Even that couldn't lighten the feeling
of this place one bit.  Angela and Charlotte were placed on a couch in the spacious living room, where they had
a breathtaking view of the ocean from the floor to ceiling picture windows.  Both women looked longingly at
the water, silently willing the dark shapes of the pirate speedboats to appear.  It wasn't working.
     They were startled from their prayers by the leader's voice.  He stood with his back against the mantle of a
huge white marble fireplace, looking down at them as one might examine a particularly interesting bug under a
microscope.  He spoke as though he were honoring them with his attention.
     "Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Julio Gregory Cartenza II."  His voice softened suggestively as his eyes
perused Angela's form beneath the skin-tight dress.  "You may call me Gregory."
     Cartenza paid little attention to Charlotte, speaking mainly to Angela.  Angela tried to force herself to make
eye contact with him, but the sickening lust that shone in his dark brown eyes turned her already sensitive
stomach.  She settled for concentrating on the bridge of his oily, brown nose.  When he pulled her hand to his
mouth to kiss it, it was all Angela could do not to snatch it away and make a run for the door.
     Gregory enjoyed watching the little senorita squirm.  He could see in her eyes what a strain it was on her to
be nice to him.  He knew she was controlling herself because of his threat against her friend.  He could see by
the fire burning in those sapphire orbs that if she had only herself to protect, she would gladly try to tear the
skin from his body.
     Gregory chuckled, a truly evil sound.  He didn't care why the blond firebrand was behaving, as long as she
kept doing so until he got into her luscious body.  He would ride her hard until she could take no more, then
perhaps he would take her little friend in front of her.  He would surely enjoy the screams that he would elicit
from each of them in turn.  He intended to kill them both eventually, so whatever damage he inflicted on their
resisting bodies wouldn't matter.  But he would not tell them that until he was ready to hear them beg for their
lives.  Alas, Gregory thought with another chuckle, their pleas would fall on deaf ears.
     All of that was running through Gregory's mind as he kissed Angela's hand.  Angela knew she should say
something, if only to prove that she was not too frightened to speak to him.  It was difficult making her jaw
unclench enough to get the words out; however, she smiled and succeeded.
     "I'm Angela Kelly, and this is Charlotte James."
     Angela's throat constricted painfully and she caught herself before she could say 'and Ginny Raymond'.  She
smiled sadly as she remembered the one time she had introduced Ginny as 'Virginia'.  Angela had received a
glare from her red-headed friend that should have sent her six feet under.  As tears threatened, Angela fought
them back, reminding herself that she didn't believe Ginny was dead.  Giving herself a mental shake, she
returned her attention to the present.
     Gregory placed his lips on the back of Angela's hand, then turned it over, causing Angela to shift
uncomfortably and grimace.  He placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her palm, looking into her eyes the whole
time.  Only the thought that she would be losing control and embarrassing herself and Charlotte kept Angela
from throwing up on his perfectly-polished alligator boots.  She dropped her gaze to the floor so that he
wouldn't see the hatred blazing in her blue eyes.
     "Pleased to meet you, Senorita Angela."
     He cast a quick glance Charlotte's way.
     "And you, Senorita Charlotte."
     Charlotte's lips curled into a very insincere smile.
     "Mr. Cartenza."
     He suddenly clapped his hands, startling both women.  When a pretty young Hispanic woman came into the
room, Cartenza gave her several curt orders in Spanish.  She curtsied, casting a hate-filled glance in Angela and
Charlotte's direction, then stood waiting as Gregory spoke.
     "Angela, Rosa will show you to a room where you may prepare yourself for the evening meal."
     The lecherous look in his eyes made it clear that he intended Angela to be his evening meal.  She gritted her
teeth, remembering her plan, and tried to smile seductively.  The little voice of reason inside her brain spoke
with its usual annoying honesty.  'Who are you trying to kid,' it said to Angela, 'there's no way you're going to be
able to pull this off.  You can't submit to this man, not even to save yourself from a fate worse than death. 
Time for another plan.'
     Thinking quickly, Angela deliberately took Charlotte's hand, pulling her friend to stand beside her.  Gregory
began to protest and Angela hoped Charlotte could follow the change in plan.
     "Mr. Cartenza," Angela forced her voice to drop to a soft purr. "Gregory.  My friend is quite frightened, as
you can see.  If you would be so kind as to allow us to remain together, I assure you, you won't regret it.  The
two of us can be most inventive.  You seem the type of man to appreciate inventiveness in your dinner
companions."
     During her speech, Angela had advanced on Gregory so that she now stood just inches from him.  He was
practically drooling with anticipation.  She forced herself to move the extra inches until her body pressed
against his, her upturned face offering him a nice view of the tops of her breasts.  Leaning forward, she brushed
his chin with her lips as her hand brushed the front of his perfect white pants.
     With no finesse, Cartenza grabbed Angela's shoulders, his well manicured fingernails digging into the tender
flesh, drawing blood.  He brought his open mouth down on hers, nearly overpowering her with the taste of
onions and tobacco.  His tongue slithered into her mouth, jabbing in and out several times as he rubbed his wet
lips back and forth across her own.
     Just when Angela was certain she couldn't take anymore without being sick, Cartenza pushed her away from
him, causing her to stumble into the unsuspecting Charlotte, who yipped her surprise.  His breathing was
shallow, his voice hoarse.
     "Very well, take your little friend with you.  But I warn you, Senorita, you had better not disappoint me, or
she will be the one to suffer."
     He made a dismissive gesture with one hand.  Rosa curtsied again and walked from the room, Angela and
Charlotte trailing along behind her.  Charlotte leaned close to Angela, keeping her voice low.
     "Did the plan change when I wasn't looking?"
     Angela nodded.
     "Angela, sometimes I feel like I need a scorecard to keep up with you!  So what's the new plan?"
     Angela gave her friend a serious look, almost a glare, and Charlotte knew she was going to like this plan
even less than the last.  That was a scary thought since the last plan had caused her to spend several hours
coming on to a man she wouldn't normally have given the time of day, and the surety that Rat would never want
to see her again.
     "I don't want us separated, in case Rafe should come for us tonight.  And, if he doesn't,"  Angela's eyes
darkened, taking on a deep angry look Charlotte had never seen before, and would rather not see again. "then
we will have to kill Cartenza!"
     "What!"
     Charlotte was so startled by Angela's suggestion that she actually yelled the question.  She stopped walking
and grabbed Angela's arm.  Angela took Charlotte's hand and pulled her along the hallway.  Rosa looked back,
then sullenly continued on.
     "Keep your voice down and keep walking!  He deserves to die for what he did to Ginny.  I refuse to play the
whore for him, and have you do the same for one of his men.  We're going to make him think he's in for the
night of his life, then, if we have to, we're going to end it."
     Charlotte started to protest.  Angela looked at her and Charlotte knew that her friend had picked up that
glare from Rafe.  Her eyes showed no emotion, save hatred.
     "When Rafe comes for us, Gregory will probably hide.  He seems the type to have an escape plan.  I don't
intend to let him get off Scot free after what he did to Ginny.  If I have to, I'll kill him myself."
     Charlotte knew Angela was right, the slimy toad probably would get away in the chaos of the pirate's arrival. 
On all the cop shows, the really big bad guys usually got away.  Charlotte remembered Ginny flying into the
ocean, sent to a watery grave by that awful man.  She raised her chin.
     "You're right, he deserves to die.  I'm with you, Angie.  Just try to let me know the plan before we're halfway
into it, ok?  I get so confused sometimes."
     Angela nodded, smiling, and placed her arm around Charlotte's shoulders.
     "You'll know the minute I do."
     For some reason, that did not greatly reassure Charlotte.

     Through the expensive, and stolen, nightscope, Rafe could see at least a dozen men strategically placed
around the Cartenza dock, more on the stairs leading to the villa and still more on the grounds surrounding
Cartenza's home.  He counted thirty in all.  He looked up at the night sky, thankful for the added darkness of the
new moon.  On this darkest of all nights, the pirates couldn't be seen clearly this far out, their speedboats
appearing as small, indistinct dots on the horizon to anyone who might look up.
     Rafe was fairly certain that as soon as there was the slightest scent of danger, Gregory Cartenza would leave
the area, probably by some hidden escape route.  He would either take the women with him or kill them.  Rafe
frowned, drawing his brows together and presenting a formidable countenance to his men.  They would have to
strike hard and fast, like powerful cobras, and be just as deadly.
     Rafe remembered Blade's warning about setting off a chain reaction.  He envisioned the coast in flames,
Angel in the middle of it, never knowing he had come for her.  His knuckles grew white as he tightened his grip
on the wheel of the Scarab.  No, he couldn't let that happen to her.  But what choice did he have?
     Rafe looked around at his pirate armada, feeling pride in the crew he had assembled.  They were all misfits
of one sort or another, the discards of a society grown beyond its own control, yet unwilling to return to a
simpler time when things could be worked out man to man.  His teeth flashing in a grim smile, Rafe knew what
he had to do.

     The guards on the Cartenza dock watched warily as a lone Scarab coasted in, its driver holding his empty
hands above his head.  He slowly lowered one hand to bring the craft to the dock.  Several automatic weapons
were trained on him, leaving no doubt what would happen to him if he made one wrong move.  Carefully,
keeping his hands in sight of the men on the dock, he stepped to the back of the boat and tossed the securing
rope to one of the guards.  Once the speedboat was secure, he was motioned from it and up the stairs to the
house by the barrel of a gun.
     Before allowing him entry, one of the guards shoved him against a wall, handing his weapon to another as
he frisked the newcomer to make sure this man presented no danger to Senor Cartenza.  Satisfied that he was
indeed unarmed, the guard opened the door and shoved the man into the brightly lit living room, telling him in
Spanish to sit.  The guard obviously assumed he didn't understand because he backed up his words with sign
language.  The visitor did not choose to disabuse him of that incorrect belief at the moment.
While one guard kept watch over the quiet man, another went to inform their leader of his arrival.  After several
minutes, the second guard returned, looking very sullen, with a tall, disgruntled man behind him.  The
Columbian was tying his blood-red robe about his thin body.  The visitor stood as Cartenza entered the room,
causing the guard watching him to raise his gun in warning.  Cartenza sounded as perturbed as he looked.
     "This had better be good.  Who might you be, Senor?"
     The visitor spoke in a quiet, hard voice.
     "The name's Rafael Devane.  You have something that belongs to me.  I came to take it back."
     Cartenza raised one eyebrow.  He had never met the man standing so proudly before him, but he knew him
by reputation.  Rumor said that this was one man no one went against and lived.  Looking into those near-black
eyes was like viewing the pits of Hell.
     The steady, emotionless gaze directed at him made Gregory want to cross himself.  With a mental shake, he
chastised his mind for letting any mere man affect him so.  Casually, Cartenza strode to the glass-and-chrome
bar that stood in one corner of the room and poured a brandy.  He took a sip before addressing Devane, letting
his rude conduct in not offering him a drink illustrate his opinion of the man.
     "And what might I have that would be worth your life, Senor Devane?"
     Rafe didn't miss the lack of hospitality, nor the implication that Cartenza might kill him for coming here, he
merely chose to ignore both.  His tone was conversational.
     "You have my wife and a friend of hers, Cartenza.  I thought I'd give you a chance to hand 'em over
peacefully before I take more drastic measures.  Since you didn't know who you were dealing with, as long as
you haven't hurt them, I figure I'll let it go this time."
     The gall of the man should have been amusing, but Cartenza had no desire to laugh.  This haughty pirate
was deadly serious and he did not seem the type to bluff.  Even though Devane was clearly in his power,
Cartenza couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow on the losing end of this exchange.  An unreasonable
sense of foreboding was beginning to make Gregory angry.  He stepped forward and tossed his brandy into the
arrogant upstart's face.
     Rafe's expression didn't change, the expansion of his neck muscles the only indication of his growing anger. 
He slowly licked his lips, then swallowed.  He smiled a devil's smile right into Cartenza's face.
     "I've tasted better.  But then, booze isn't your kick, is it, Cartenza?  Can you even get it up if nobody's
begging you not to hurt 'em?"
     Rafe saw the anger flare in Cartenza's eyes, predicted the trajectory of his fist, thinking things were going
perfectly according to his plan.  But he had based that plan on Cartenza being a man like himself, a man who
would want to smash someone who insulted him.  Instead, the Columbian motioned to the guards who had
remained in the room to see to his safety, and two pairs of strong hands closed around Rafe's arms.  Surprised,
he began to struggle, almost throwing one of them to the ground before the other raised his gun to Rafe's head. 
Stiffening, Rafe ceased his struggles.
     Gregory stood before him, hatred, anger, and a tiny flicker of fear, vying for space in his expression.
     "If he fights, shoot him."
     Cartenza was tall and standing so close that Rafe had to tilt his head back slightly to look into his eyes.  He
did so, glaring contemptuous daggers at the Columbian leader.
     "You sorry son-of-a-bitch.  You can't even fight your own battles.  You got any balls at all?"
     Cartenza's knee slammed into Rafe's groin.  Rafe inhaled sharply, pulling against the restraining hands of the
guards in an attempt to bend and protect his exposed body.  He swallowed a retch of pain.  Cartenza grabbed a
handful of Rafe's hair, pulling his face up.
     "You should ask your pretty little wife about my balls, Devane.  She could tell you of their excellent
function.  Perhaps I will even demonstrate my prowess to you, personally, when I am done with your woman."
     Rafe tensed his leg for a kick, but the press of the barrel against his temple reminded him that he couldn't be
of any use to Angel if he were dead.  But it wasn't in his nature to just stand there and take it.  Glaring eyes
blazing hatred, Rafe spat in Cartenza's smug face.
     Almost blind with fury, Cartenza pulled a knife from the guard's belt.  Still holding him by the hair, Gregory
pulled Rafe's head back and laid the razor-sharp length of cold steel against his throat.
     Smiling maniacally, Cartenza looked into his victim's eyes.  Had he seen one ounce of fear in that chocolate
glare, Cartenza would have covered his lovely white carpet with the pirate's blood.  He saw nothing.  No fear,
no anger, nothing.  Cartenza snarled, slipping the knife behind Rafe's neck and sliding it cleanly through his
sheaf of long, silky hair.
     A tiny hint of surprise flashed across Rafe's eyes, then the wall of armor crashed back down to cover his
emotions.  Cartenza held the handful of hair in front of Rafe's face with a triumphant smirk.
     "A tradition of your American Indians, I believe, to take the hair of their victims.  Perhaps I will have this
braided with the hair of your bitch and wear it as a belt."
     He leaned down into Rafe's face.
     "She will beg me for death long before I will allow it to claim her, pirate.  Think about that as the tide
slowly takes your life."
     Cartenza spoke to the guards in Spanish.
     "Bury him to his neck in the sand so that he can watch the tide come in.  Then come to my room.  You can
take the dark-haired bitch to the barracks for your amusement.  When you have finished with her, bury her in
the cemetery."  An annoying thought came to him.  "If she still lives, slit her throat.  I do not wish to hear her
screams.  Go!"
     Rafe twisted his head around so that he could look at Cartenza as the guards dragged him from the room. 
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his groin, he spoke with great conviction.
     "You'll see me again, Cartenza.  I'll come back for my Angel if I have to do it from my grave!"
     With that, the guards forced Rafe out the door.  This time, Cartenza could not resist the urge to cross
himself.
                                                                          Chapter Twenty-one

     Angela felt like the captive of some desert sheik being prepared for the master's pleasure.  Rosa showed her
and Charlotte to a large, ornate bathroom.  The maid opened a closet to reveal lingerie of just about every sort
imaginable.  After a short perusal of the possibilities, the beautiful, dark woman removed her two selections
and laid them on a gold-silk covered chaise lounge.  Rosa turned on the water in the large-enough-for-two
claw-footed bathtub, tested the temperature.  Using rather crude sign language, she motioned for the two
women to bathe and change into the lingerie she had chosen.  They heard the click of the lock as she left the
room.
     Angela disgustedly examined the insolent maid's choices.  A flaming red teddy, open over the nipples and at
the crotch, was accessorized with black thigh-high stockings, black gloves and black pumps with at least 4-inch
heels.  That was bad enough, but, to Angela's mind, the other choice was worse.  It was a white lace baby doll,
patterned after a little girl's pinafore.  With it went white panties with rows of pink lace ruffles across the back,
little pink anklets with white lace trim and black patent leather shoes with black bows on the toes.  Angela
instinctively knew which bit of decadence was intended for her.  Grimacing in disgust, she stepped away from
the chaise and turned to Charlotte.
     "Cartenza is one sick puppy.  Unfortunately, I don't hear any explosions heralding the arrival of our knights
in shining armor, so I guess we play this sicko's game till we can find a way to end it.  What's the matter, Char?"
     Angela went to Charlotte's side and put an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her and find out why
she was crying.  Charlotte hiccupped several times, trying to regain her composure.  Through semi-stifled sobs,
she explained her tears to her friend.
     "What if they're not coming, Angie?  Let's face it, it's not like they can't get other women.  All they have to
do is snatch them from a passing boat, like take-out food.  What if they consider it too much trouble to come
after us?  Men get over women so easily."
     Angela gave Charlotte a little shake.  They did not need this kind of negative thinking undermining their
courage.
     "Char, stop it!  They are coming for us.  Stop selling yourself so short, girl.  Rat really likes you, I could
tell."
     Charlotte's eyes lit with a flash of hope, then just as quickly darkened to despair.
     "Even if he does, Rat's not the boss.  Rafe is.  What if he won't let Rat come for me?"
     Angela stiffened, trying once again to force any such doubts from her mind.
     "Rafe will come for me, Char, I know he will.  All we have to do is wait.  Now let's take a quick bath and
change.  I don't want to annoy Cartenza by not being ready and waiting when he arrives for 'the evening meal'."
     Angela quickly removed her lycra dress, shoes and nylons, and stepped into the tub.  The water was cooling
but still warm enough to be comfortable.  She ran the sponge she found resting on the side of the tub over her
body, hoping the worst of the dirt acquired during the day would wipe off.  Then she stepped from the tub,
drying herself with a fluffy black towel.  Forcing a cheery tone, she motioned to the water.
     "It's all yours."
     While Angela bathed, Charlotte thought about her time with Rat.  How wonderful and special he had made
her feel.  He wasn't like all the rest.  He really cared.  He hadn't been using her, she was certain of that.
     Remembering Rat's bloody mouth, received when he had told Rafe he wouldn't let him sell the women,
Charlotte brightened.  Rat had fought Rafe for her once, surely he would do so again.  With new hope,
Charlotte determined to stay safe until Rat came for her.  If that meant primping for this Columbian villain, so
be it.
     "Gee, thanks, I get the used water.  And I'm sure it's cold by now.  Did you know the tradition of bathing is
believed by some to have sexual connotations?  Like re-entering the womb.  I bet it gives most men a hard-on. 
But, then, so does just about everything.  I wonder if there's a medical explanation, something about water
pressure below the knees or something?"
     Charlotte talked incessantly all through her bath and while dressing in the awful red teddy.  Angela smiled
as she half listened to Charlotte's running diatribe on everything from sex to the economy.  She knew Char was
all right as long as she was talking.  Nervous perhaps, but all right.
     They had just finished dressing when the door opened, and Cartenza entered the room dressed in a blood red
bathrobe.  He looked at Angela with an ugly leering grin.  He barely perused Charlotte, obviously favoring the
blond.  Seating himself on the chaise lounge, he motioned toward the bathtub.
     "Run my bath, Angelita.  Not too hot.  You," he pointed at Charlotte, "pour me a drink.  Scotch, no water,
two cubes of ice.  Would you like something, Angelita?"
     Angela shook her head, afraid her voice would reveal too much about her feelings and her intentions.  Both
women proceeded to do his bidding, Angela wishing she were running a tub full of battery acid, Charlotte
wondering if arsenic had a flavor, and if it did, if he'd drink enough to kill him before he noticed.
     When Charlotte brought the Scotch to Gregory, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap.  He
wrapped one arm around her, placing his drink in that hand, and shoved his other hand between her legs,
roughly forcing a finger into her.  He laughed at her struggles to free herself, painfully ramming and
withdrawing his finger several times until tears of pain appeared in her eyes.  Drawing a deep breath to control
the raging desire caused by her pain, he stood, pushing her from his lap, continuing to laugh as she took several
steps back and glared daggers at him.
     "Your pain is easy, chica.  Too easy, perhaps."
     Cartenza turned to face Angela, who was sitting on the side of the bathtub, and dropped his robe, obviously
waiting for her to say something about his physique.  When she merely looked down at his most prized
possession and arched one eyebrow, his temper boiled.  He stepped forward and slapped her across the face,
knocking her to the floor.  Standing over her prone body, he glowered down at her.
     Angela glared up at his face, wiped the blood from her cut lip and started to stand.  He raised his hand again,
fully expecting her to recoil in fear.  Angela froze where she was, the narrowing of her eyes giving a clear
warning to Cartenza about the advisability of his actions.
     Not used to women fighting back this stridently, Cartenza decided to give this some thought before pushing
her further.  Breaking this puta was going to take some time, but he was certain that the pleasure to be found in
her eventual submission would prove worth it.  Her little friend, on the other hand, wasn't worth his time. 
Perhaps his men would find her interesting.
     Angela rose to stand next to the bathtub.  Cartenza decided he would let her assist him in his bath.  He was
about to step into the water when there was a sharp knock on the door followed by one of his men speaking in
Spanish, informing him that they had a visitor.  Cartenza uttered a Spanish curse, grabbed his robe from the
floor and headed toward the door.  When he opened it, the guard was standing there waiting for him.  The man
looked behind Cartenza to where Angela stood in her white confection.  His eyes lit with undisguised lust. 
Cartenza slapped the guard across the face.
     "Do not look at her, she is mine!"
     Startled and chagrined at being caught ogling the master's woman, the man dropped his gaze to his feet. 
Cartenza turned and glared at Angela.
     "When I return I trust you will have adjusted your attitude.  I desire only you this evening, so I shall have
your friend shown to a room where she can get some rest.  However, she will still be available should you prove
too difficult."
     His leer was revolting, his tone sickeningly insinuating.
     "Perhaps she can help you prepare for me while I see to my visitor."
     As soon as the door closed behind Cartenza, Charlotte ran to Angela's side.
     "Are you ok, Angie?"
     Charlotte started to touch Angela's face where Cartenza had hit her, but Angela pulled away, glaring at the
closed door.
     "I'm just fine.  I don't trust him, Char, and I don't want us to be separated."
     Angela looked around the room, noticed a door they hadn't seen before.  She went to it and opened it,
surprised to find it unlocked.  A large, rather gaudy bedroom lay before her.  Done in white and gold, it reeked
of obvious wealth, the room of a man who wants everyone to see his magnificent riches.  Charlotte had come
up behind Angela and was staring in awe at the room.
     "There's enough gold in there to support a third world country.  Do you think it's real gold?"
     Angela grimaced.
     "Probably."
     Angela looked back into the bathroom, then at the ornate gold-satin covered bed in the middle of the
bedroom.  Turning determined eyes to Charlotte, she planned their next move.
     "Bear with me, Char, I've got an idea."
                    Chapter Twenty-Two

     Knowing their plans for him, even the threat of the gun at his temple
couldn't stop Rafe from struggling as the two guards dragged him to the
sand at the side of the dock.  Having trouble holding the extremely
strong pirate, one of the Colombians solved the problem by clubbing
him on the side of the head with his pistol.  Rafe slumped to the ground,
unconscious.
     When he awakened, Rafe was being lowered into a hole in the sand. 
The deathtrap was about three feet in diameter.  When his feet hit
bottom, Rafe's head and neck were still above ground.  There were
seven or eight men standing around him, their guns aimed in his general
direction.  It seemed senseless to fight at this point.
     Rafe knew he had to get himself out of this.  His men could not help
him.  The only way they could come ashore was to blow large holes in
the surrounding landscape, taking most of these guards out before they
tried to gain the land.  If they tried that now, there was a good chance
they'd take him out, too.
     Rafe put what little plan he had into motion, certain, as he always
was, that he would succeed.  As the guards shoveled the sand in around
him, Rafe tensed all his muscles, pumping as fully as he could.  Sweat
broke out all over his body as his muscles became tired, threatening to
cramp.  He silently cursed the slowness of the guards, thinking he'd
have a man flogged if he took this long to carry out one of his orders. 
Finally, the hole was filled, only his head and neck still free of the sand.
     The guards stood around for a few minutes, cracking jokes in
Spanish about crabs and how long Rafe could hold his breath.  They
soon tired of the game when Rafe refused to respond, just stared out at
the ocean as it crept closer and closer to his face.  His cool demeanor
made them nervous, the more superstitious among them crossing
themselves with a muttered 'Este loco!' - 'The man's crazy!'  Eventually,
not wishing to look into those dark, emotionless eyes any longer, they all
returned to their posts, leaving Rafe to drown in the incoming tide.
     As soon as they had dispersed, Rafe took several deep, calming
breaths.  He willed his muscles to return to their relaxed state, thus
causing the sides of the hole to weaken and fall in on themselves.  He
listened to the ocean, ignoring how close the water came to his face,
letting the soothing sound of the waves lull him as it had when he was a
child unable to sleep.
     Rafe could feel the sand shift as the first wave touched his skin.  He
knew his time was very limited, the tide came in fast in this part of the
world.  He flexed his muscles, then relaxed again, feeling more sand
give way.  A wave hit, rising to his cheekbones, causing him to hold his
breath or swallow saltwater.
     A weaker man might have panicked, screaming and wasting what
little time he had left thrashing to be free, but Rafe knew that his will
would prevail.  That certainty kept him sane as he slowly worked his
muscles, weakening his sandy prison.  The waves were now over his
head, retreating to a point just below his mouth.  By his calculation, the
next wave would not retreat far enough for him to get a breath.  His
time had run out. With an almost inhuman roar, Rafe pulled, wrenching
his arms from the sand as the wave hit, burying his face in frothy
seawater.  Holding his breath, he put his hands on the edges of the hole
and, using every ounce of strength in his powerful body, pulled free of
the sand-filled grave.
     As Rafe gained his feet, an explosion rocked the dock, tearing out a
piece of the wooden planking and sending several of the guards flying
into the air, never to rise again.  Though Rafe's roar had gotten their
notice, the guards found the threat presented by the attacking force to
be of more concern than an escaping prisoner.  They began firing at the
approaching speedboats, then ran for cover as more explosions kicked
up sand, wood and flesh.  The pirates had arrived.
     Half the pirate fleet had gained the shore by the time the fourth
explosion tore the dock from the land.  The beach resembled an ancient
battlefield, Rafe's men firing at or slashing anything that moved,
Cartenza's men running, trying in vain to escape the advancing horde. 
Screams of pain blended with the battle cries of the pirates, explosions
boomed and gunfire crackled the background beat, creating the music
of Dante's Inferno.
     Rafe ran up the beach toward the villa, grabbing an M-16 from a
fallen Columbian guard as he passed his broken body.  Rafe knew that
he might have only minutes to get to Angel before Cartenza could take
his anger out on her.  Deep down, Rafe knew that he might already be
too late, but he refused to admit that possibility, knowing it would
paralyze him with anguish, making him of no use to anyone.
     For the first time in his life, Rafe's survival instincts were
overpowered by his concern for someone else.  He ran like a madman,
firing on the run, knowing none of his men could have reached this far
yet.  It was up to him to save his Angel.
     Climbing the stairs to the villa, Rafe heard something to his right at
the same time his sixth sense, finely honed in many fights, told him their
was danger above him.  Knowing that both enemies had the drop on
him, he made a choice, turning and firing to his right, then quickly
dropping to the ground.  Expecting a bullet to tear into him at any
moment, Rafe looked up just in time to see one of the enemy falling
backwards, a well-known silver dagger protruding from his chest.
     Rafe turned to see Blade crouched about fifty feet down the beach. 
Rafe smiled at him, gave him a thumbs-up signal, than proceeded
toward the house.  He'd have to remember to compliment Blade on his
throwing.  Rafe had never realized that Blade could throw his daggers
that far with any accuracy.
     Rafe kicked open the front door of the villa, standing to the side in
case there were any guards in the house.  He quickly dispatched the two
that had remained to protect Cartenza.  Rafe was headed down the stark
white hallway, kicking open doors as he went, when he heard the only
sound that could have pumped more adrenaline into his near-exhausted
body.  He heard his Angel scream.
                                                            Chapter Twenty-Three

     After Devane had been removed, Cartenza stayed in the living room for a while, brooding.  He poured himself
another drink in an attempt to rid himself of the discomfort the pirate had caused him.  The liquor hadn't helped, but
perhaps abusing Devane's woman would.
     Angela stood at the doorway to the hall, listening for Cartenza's approach.  When she heard footsteps coming her
way, she quickly stepped into the bathtub, sitting on the side with her feet in the water.  She smiled seductively when
Gregory opened the door.  She could tell by the glare he sent her way that his visitor had not come bearing good news. 
He looked warily around the room.
     "Where is your friend?"
     Angela used her most sultry voice, hoping to keep him from thinking too much.
     "One of your men came and took her away.  Now we're alone."
     He narrowed his eyes at the barely-covered blond.  He was certain she was lying, his men hadn't come to claim
their prize yet, but he didn't care about the dark-haired bitch.  If she tried to escape and ran into one of his men, they
would enjoy her and dispose of her as they had been instructed.  If she succeeded in her escape, she would surely
perish in the jungle that surrounded his estate.  Either way, her fate was of little concern to him.  But perhaps the hope
that her escape would be successful would make Angela more cooperative, since she would surely wish to keep his
mind off of her friend.  It would all work in his favor.  He smiled, relishing the thought of the night to come.
     "I no longer wish to bathe, Angelita.  Come, I will show you my bedroom."
   Angela meekly followed, thanking the Lord that Cartenza hadn't questioned her further about Charlotte's
whereabouts.  His attitude smug, he walked into his gaudy bedroom.  Turning to watch Angela's reaction to what he
perceived as his wealth and good taste, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and sidestepped, barely
avoiding the lamp that Charlotte swung at his head.
     Cartenza immediately lashed out viciously with his fist, catching Charlotte on the tip of her chin.  She fell to the
floor, instantly unconscious.  Then he turned on Angela.  He was about to begin her deadly beating when an explosion
shook the house.  He grabbed Angela when she would have run back into the bathroom, and flung her to the bed. 
His eyes blazing insanely, Gregory closed and locked the bathroom door, then walked slowly to the other door in the
room and locked it also.
     Angela watched him warily, hoping for a chance to get out of the room.  As much as she hated leaving Charlotte,
Angela knew she couldn't handle Cartenza alone, she would have to go for help.  She tried to calculate how long it
would take her to unlock one of the doors, figuring, at most, one minute.  Next, she chose which door she should try. 
She decided on the one to the bathroom, since she knew where that led and she had noticed a lock on the bathroom
side.  She could lock Cartenza in the bedroom, buying herself a few precious minutes to get to Rafe.  Now all she had
to do was get past her evil captor.
     Angela noticed a fancy roll-top desk in one corner of the room.  Its fine wood had been lacquered white, and gold
fixtures gleamed on the drawers.  The top was open and Angela could see a gold letter opener resting on the shiny
surface.  She made a dash for it.
     Cartenza watched with keen curiosity as the stupid woman ran in a direction that would gain her nothing.  Too
late, he realized what she was after, but it still didn't concern him.  He didn't believe the little bitch could hurt him,
especially not with something so inconsequential as a letter opener.  He laughed, a short-lived action as two more
explosions sounded, each closer to the house than the first.
     Angela turned on him, holding the letter opener in front of her as a weapon.  She was feeling very triumphant. 
Rafe had come for her, her knight in shining armor was battering down the walls to get to her.  All she had to do was
to keep herself and Charlotte in one piece until he could arrive.
     Angela stepped sideways, putting herself between Cartenza and Charlotte's limp body.  She didn't intend to let him
do anymore damage to her friend.  She would hold him at bay until Rafe came to make him pay for what he had
done.
     As yet another explosion sounded, Cartenza was nearly beside himself with anger and fear.  He knew he should
utilize his escape route and leave the villa, but he had to take this bitch with him.  He had to have her!  He didn't dare
come straight at her while she held the semi-sharp blade in front of her.  He needed to distract her, throw her off
guard so that he could disarm her.  He would break her arm, if necessary, to get her back under his power.  Gregory
smiled wickedly.  Emotions were always a woman's undoing.
     "Do not smile as though you have won, Senora Devane."
     Angela jumped and stared at Cartenza, fear suddenly clamping its clammy hand on her throat.  She was disgusted
at the quiver in her voice.
     "How do you know that?"
     Cartenza sneered, leaning back against the wall as though he hadn't a care in the world.
     "Our visitor was that worthless pirate you call husband.  He foolishly thought to rescue you himself.  I had him
buried to his neck in the sand so that the tide would take his useless life."
     He looked at the gold grandfather clock that stood against one wall.
     "You may thank me for making you a widow, Angelita."
     Angela took a step backwards, feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach.  A vision of Rafe under
the water, struggling in vain to reach the air just inches above his head, came to her.  Tears forming in her eyes,
Angela watched as all she had dreamed of sank into the ocean of her mind.
     Anger, the likes of which she had never before experienced, swept over Angela like a sudden gust of wind.  She
dropped back her head and exhaled a scream of pure rage.  Then all she could see was the murderer before her.  She
headed for Cartenza at a run, intending to drive the blade through his heart like a stake.
     Cartenza decided it was too dangerous to try to disarm this blond harridan.  She was a bit too wild for him,
anyway.  Sighing with disappointment, he reached into a panel hidden in the wall and withdrew a pistol, aiming for
her chest as she came at him.
     The door Cartenza had locked last flew open, knocking him away and leaving Rafe standing directly in Angela's
path.  Rafe raised his arm to block her attack, taking the blade just below his elbow in the muscle of his forearm. 
Seeing Cartenza raise his pistol, Rafe straightened his arm, knocking Angela to the floor, raised his M-16 and fired. 
Cartenza's body jerked rapidly as several bullets tore into him.  He fell backwards, sprawling on his elegant gold bed. 
His last vision was of the bloody letter opener Rafe had pulled from his arm descending toward his crotch.  Cartenza
never felt the blade sink into his death-inspired erection.
     Rafe stood over the limp body, shaking with uncontrollable rage and relief.  He waited for the Columbian to move,
actually wanted him to so that he could kill him again.  Unfortunately, death comes one to a customer.
     Realizing that Cartenza was dead, Rafe turned to Angela.  She lay on the floor where Rafe had knocked her,
staring up at him as though he were a ghost.  Rafe looked at the blood oozing from the wound in his arm.  Arching
an eyebrow, he smiled down at his wife, laughter lightening his tone.
     "I didn't get here fast enough?"
     Angela blinked several times, trying to clear her mind.  She didn't know if she were dreaming, hallucinating, or
had just gone crazy.  Was it really Rafe that stood before her?
     "What?"
     He knelt down next to her, brushed her hair from her face.  His voice was a soothing caress.
     "If you were mad at me for not getting here sooner, you could have just said so, love, you didn't have to stab me."
     She turned shock-widened eyes to his.  Her confused mind had registered only one word, a word she needed to
hear right now.
     "You called me 'love'."
     Rafe gathered her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.  He'd known when he decided to come for her
alone, putting his life in danger, that he loved her.  But if he admitted it to her, would it destroy him?  He could feel
her breath on his chest, her body shaking as she began to cry.  Her sobs hurt him more than any blade ever could.
     Rafe sat back on his heels, roughly taking her face between his hands.  His emotions were so raw he found it
difficult to be gentle.  She looked up, her beautiful blue eyes shining with love.  His voice was harsh, almost a growl.
     "All right, dammit, I love you.  God help us both, Angel, I love you."
     His lips came down on hers so hard, the cut she had received earlier from Cartenza reopened.  Angela didn't care. 
Right now, she didn't care if the whole building came down around their ears.  Rafe loved her!  She returned his kiss
as passionately as he gave it, running her hands over his arms and back, reassuring herself that he was really there,
not just some desperate illusion of her mind.  When she hit his wound, he jumped a little, breaking the contact of their
lips.  Angela leaned back and looked at his arm, understanding suddenly dawning on her.
     "I stabbed you!  Oh, Rafe, I'm so sorry!  Cartenza said he'd killed you and I was going to kill him and you got in
the way."
     Angela realized how strange her explanation sounded.  Rafe was smiling at her in a humoring way that she found
most annoying.
   "Actually, you did take your own sweet time getting here.  Maybe you did deserve to get stabbed."
     Rafe's look of surprise was priceless, bringing a burst of laughter from Angela.  Realizing he had fallen for her jive,
Rafe kissed her again, showing her who was boss.  Angela ran her hands into his hair, then suddenly pulled away from
him with a look of shock.
     "Rafe, what happened to your hair?!"
     Rafe winced, realizing that he could no longer feel his silky hair on his shoulders.  Casting a lethal glare in the
direction of Cartenza's body, he smiled sadly down at Angel.  He shrugged.
     "It'll grow back.  It doesn't matter, honey, as long as you're all right."
     He hugged her to him as though his life depended on it.  They both looked around at the sound of a disgruntled
female.
     "If you two are through with the kissing and giggling, maybe you could find a priest to give me the last rites."
     Charlotte was sitting on the floor, rubbing her jaw.  Rafe gave Angela a questioning look.  She smiled, shook her
head.
     "Don't worry, she isn't even Catholic.  Cartenza punched her and knocked her out.  Would you help me up?"
     Rafe smiled and winked at Angela.
     "So that's how you shut her up."
     Laughing at Charlotte's gasp of indignation, Rafe stood, then helped Angela to her feet.  He looked at the indecent
bit of lace that she was wearing, frowned deeply.  As she started to walk around him to see to her friend, Rafe lightly
touched Angela's arm.  His voice barely above a whisper, he asked,  "Did he touch you, Angel?"
     Angela looked him in the eye, her worst fears pouring into her mind.  Her voice was high, child-like.
     "If he did, Rafe, will you still want me?"
     He tilted his head like the little terrier in the RCA advertisement, his expression confused.  Then a smile of
understanding slowly spread across his face.
     "Yeah, honey, I'll still want you.  Nothing anyone else does could ever change how I feel about you, Angel.  I just
want to know if he hurt you."
     Angela smiled at him, tears threatening again.
     "He didn't get the chance.  I'll have to remember to thank whoever for their timely arrival."
     "You're welcome."
     Rafe whipped his body toward the door, pushing Angela behind him and going for his gun.  Blade stood leaning
against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, grinning.  Rafe narrowed his eyes at the cocky pirate.
     "Some day, boy, you're gonna pull one stunt too many and I'm gonna bash ya!"
     Blade's grin widened.
     "Yeah.  And who would save your butt, then?"
     Rafe looked at the ground, then back up at Blade and smiled, a genuine smile of friendship.  He stepped forward
and offered Blade his hand.
     "Thanks, man.  I didn't know you could throw those things that far."
     Shaking Rafe's proffered hand, Blade's smile turned devilish.
     "Neither did I."
     Rafe's eyebrows shot up.  Blade shrugged.
     "First time for everything."
     Seeing Blade reminded Angela about Ginny.  She looked at the floor, wondering if he would even care that her
friend was gone, knowing she would hate him if he didn't.  Breaking into the pirates' playful ribbing of each other,
Angela spoke in a hesitant voice.
     "Blade, there's something I have to tell you."
     She sounded so serious.  Both men watched her curiously.
     "When we were taken from the island, Ginny...she.."
     Blade smiled.
     "Oh, that.  Yeah, I know, she got shot.  She's okay, a little teed off that I wouldn't let her get her fool head blown
off helping us rescue you, but she'll make it."
     Angela was so happy to have her hopes affirmed she ran to Blade and threw her arms around his neck.  He
straightened, flipped his eyebrows at Rafe, who scowled.  Laughing, Blade returned her hug with gusto.  Angela
realized what she was doing and pulled away from him, blushing furiously.  Blade looked her up and down, arching
a dark brow.
     "Nice outfit, but I like hers better."
     With an outraged squeak, Charlotte was up off the floor and running toward the bathroom.  Just as she reached
the door, it opened, sending her headlong into Rat's arms.  He hugged her, looking past her to Rafe with a questioning
expression.  Rafe shrugged.
     "She didn't like Blade admiring her attire."
     Rat grasped Charlotte's shoulders and pulled her away from his body, not an easy thing to do since she was holding
on to his waist very tightly.  Looking down at her exposing lingerie, Rat's eyes widened and he pulled her back against
him, casting Blade the evil eye.  Blade laughed.
     "Hey, Rat, you want to make it a double wedding, if it's all right with the ladies, that is?"
     All eyes turned to Blade in disbelief.  He shrugged, a comical defeated expression on his face.
     "I told you, man, chicks do everything together.  There ain't gonna be no peace around here till we marry 'em. 
Not that there'll be any peace then, but at least they won't have that to harp on.  How 'bout it, Rat?  Rafe can be our
best man."
     Rat smiled over Charlotte's head, and nodded.
     "Yeah, I think I'd like bein' an old married guy like Rafe."
     He laughed as Rafe glared at him, then winced when Charlotte kicked him in the shin.
     "Ow!"
     "Don't you 'ow' me, you pirate!  You can't just take it for granted that I will marry you, you have to ask me.  And
I might say no, you know.  I..."
     Rat put his hand over Charlotte's mouth, started dragging her toward the bathroom.
     "Excuse us, I have to go show her who's boss."
     With that he closed the door.  There was an outraged scream, some feminine yelling, then silence.  Rafe laughed
and turned to Blade.
     "Have Chris wire this place to blow.  Leave the coke, leave everything that Rat hasn't already taken."  He looked
at Angela with a soft smile.  "I don't want anything to remind the ladies of this bastard."  He turned back to Blade. 
"Tell the men to regroup at what's left of the dock and we'll head home.  I'll be there in a minute."
     Blade turned to leave.  Just outside the door, he remarked,  "Hey, Rafe, nice hair."  Laughing, Blade left at a run.
     Rafe laughed and shook his head.
     "Someday, Blade."
     Turning from the door, he looked at Angela, admiring her radiant smile and shining eyes.  Taking her face in his
hands, he grew serious.
     "You think you can be happy with us, Angel?"
     She slipped her arms around his waist, looking at him with such love, Rafe knew he would be a happy man till
the day he died.  Her voice was alive with hope and promise.
     "We're going to be so happy, Rafe.  And just wait till there are a few children running around that island of yours."
     His look of slight distress brought forth giggles from his Angel.  He kissed her lightly on her bruised lips.
     "This is what it feels like when it's right, isn't it, baby?"
     At her nod, he leaned closer to her, a rare insecurity flitting across his eyes.
     "Think your Mom and Dad would approve?"
     Angela smiled, her never ending supply of tears moistening her eyes.
     "I think they would be very proud of my choice."

     The pirate armada watched as the Columbian coast lit up, explosions sending fiery debris high into the pre-dawn
sky.  Rafe took a deep, cleansing breath, feeling something new and wonderful settle in his chest, to live beside his
heart.  He pulled his Angel tighter against his side and watched as the pain and loneliness that had been his life burned
away, and the sun that would now shine on all of his tomorrows dawned bright and promising.

                                                          THE END