she lied,
lowering her gaze. “But I’m fine. I can get up on my own.”
She did just that and sought out some
kind of refuge from the crowd. There was a marina nearby. She headed in that
direction, thinking she could lose herself there. A second explosion from the
car sent everyone scrambling, and gave her a chance to disappear.
Tierney searched through the endless
line of crisp white boats; finally came upon one called Sea Mistress that
wasn’t so crisp or white but it was uninhabited as far as she could tell. She
made sure no one was looking then boarded it and slipped down into the unlocked
hull. The place was a mess; clothes strewn all over the dark, 70s style
furniture, half-eaten pizzas still in their boxes, and cans reeking of stale
beer lying in clusters about the floor.
“God, can I pick them or what?” she
sighed. Then she heard footsteps and hid in the tiny blue-tiled bathroom. It
was a man – she could tell because he apparently stubbed his toe on the beer
cans and cursed out loud in a deep, sexy voice.
Tierney heard a cell phone beep then
the man said, “Yeah, I’m still here but I’m heading out in awhile. No, I’m not
sure where exactly, maybe Baja. I don’t care what Slater says. I’m through! Get
it? All right then. Talk later, Joe. Sure. Bye.”
Tierney waited, afraid the man would
yank open the door and find her but he didn’t. He stomped up to the deck and
started the engine. The boat began to move, easing grumpily out of its dock and
into the Bay.
“Oh my God, what do I do now?”
Tierney whispered. Her mind was jumbled, unsure of who to trust. She tried to
come up with a list of suspects for the bombing. Sure, she had enemies, rich
people always do. But she couldn’t imagine anyone hating her enough to actually
commit murder. It wasn’t Istvan , was it? He did know
about demolition, his dad ran a blasting company in Budapest . Maybe he had sensed that she was
over him and that mad temper of his got the better of his judgment.
Or was it Bodey ?
He had a thing for her, told her once that he meant to take her away from Istvan once the show was done. Nah, he was too lazy to even
think of constructing a bomb, though he did work with explosives in Iraq while he was in the military.
Then there was her brother, Dennis Aram Evans. The brat was spoiled beyond
belief, had envied and despised Tierney for most of her life. And why? Because he was utterly happy being an only child,
pampered and paraded about like a prize cow. He enjoyed all the attention and
bragging. Then Tierney came along and stole some of his sunshine, leaving him a
miserable, sullen beast. She had tried to love him in spite of his acid tongue
and spiteful actions but it couldn’t be done. Only a saint – and she certainly
wasn’t one - could love that guy.
Tierney thought maybe she should call
her folks. Then she remembered her phone was in her purse and her purse was probably
floating in the Pacific if it hadn’t been blown to bits. She had the urge to
pee, took the opportunity to use the tiny bathroom.
As she was sitting there she heard
the footsteps again. The bathroom door flew open before she could get her Victoria ’s Secret panties up! She stood;
bare-butted, face to hairy chest with the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He
was shirtless, wearing jeans and deck shoes, and shaped like Apollo in a
Romantic Era painting, his body firm and muscled, his features finely chiseled,
with lines down his cheeks and a dimple in his chin. He looked her up and down
with cinnamon brown eyes then averted his gaze while he ran lean fingers
through a mass of golden brown hair. She swore his tanned face turned ruddy.
“What the hell … how did you get in
here?”
Tierney repositioned her panties, and
smoothed her denim miniskirt as she fashioned a quick lie. “I thought this was
my dad’s boat. The Saracen. I guess I was mistaken …”
“You must be blind, or high on
something. Get your business done while I turn
lowering her gaze. “But I’m fine. I can get up on my own.”
She did just that and sought out some
kind of refuge from the crowd. There was a marina nearby. She headed in that
direction, thinking she could lose herself there. A second explosion from the
car sent everyone scrambling, and gave her a chance to disappear.
Tierney searched through the endless
line of crisp white boats; finally came upon one called Sea Mistress that
wasn’t so crisp or white but it was uninhabited as far as she could tell. She
made sure no one was looking then boarded it and slipped down into the unlocked
hull. The place was a mess; clothes strewn all over the dark, 70s style
furniture, half-eaten pizzas still in their boxes, and cans reeking of stale
beer lying in clusters about the floor.
“God, can I pick them or what?” she
sighed. Then she heard footsteps and hid in the tiny blue-tiled bathroom. It
was a man – she could tell because he apparently stubbed his toe on the beer
cans and cursed out loud in a deep, sexy voice.
Tierney heard a cell phone beep then
the man said, “Yeah, I’m still here but I’m heading out in awhile. No, I’m not
sure where exactly, maybe Baja. I don’t care what Slater says. I’m through! Get
it? All right then. Talk later, Joe. Sure. Bye.”
Tierney waited, afraid the man would
yank open the door and find her but he didn’t. He stomped up to the deck and
started the engine. The boat began to move, easing grumpily out of its dock and
into the Bay.
“Oh my God, what do I do now?”
Tierney whispered. Her mind was jumbled, unsure of who to trust. She tried to
come up with a list of suspects for the bombing. Sure, she had enemies, rich
people always do. But she couldn’t imagine anyone hating her enough to actually
commit murder. It wasn’t Istvan , was it? He did know
about demolition, his dad ran a blasting company in Budapest . Maybe he had sensed that she was
over him and that mad temper of his got the better of his judgment.
Or was it Bodey ?
He had a thing for her, told her once that he meant to take her away from Istvan once the show was done. Nah, he was too lazy to even
think of constructing a bomb, though he did work with explosives in Iraq while he was in the military.
Then there was her brother, Dennis Aram Evans. The brat was spoiled beyond
belief, had envied and despised Tierney for most of her life. And why? Because he was utterly happy being an only child,
pampered and paraded about like a prize cow. He enjoyed all the attention and
bragging. Then Tierney came along and stole some of his sunshine, leaving him a
miserable, sullen beast. She had tried to love him in spite of his acid tongue
and spiteful actions but it couldn’t be done. Only a saint – and she certainly
wasn’t one - could love that guy.
Tierney thought maybe she should call
her folks. Then she remembered her phone was in her purse and her purse was probably
floating in the Pacific if it hadn’t been blown to bits. She had the urge to
pee, took the opportunity to use the tiny bathroom.
As she was sitting there she heard
the footsteps again. The bathroom door flew open before she could get her Victoria ’s Secret panties up! She stood;
bare-butted, face to hairy chest with the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He
was shirtless, wearing jeans and deck shoes, and shaped like Apollo in a
Romantic Era painting, his body firm and muscled, his features finely chiseled,
with lines down his cheeks and a dimple in his chin. He looked her up and down
with cinnamon brown eyes then averted his gaze while he ran lean fingers
through a mass of golden brown hair. She swore his tanned face turned ruddy.
“What the hell … how did you get in
here?”
Tierney repositioned her panties, and
smoothed her denim miniskirt as she fashioned a quick lie. “I thought this was
my dad’s boat. The Saracen. I guess I was mistaken …”
“You must be blind, or high on
something. Get your business done while I turn
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