Dark Avenger Page 6

  He rejoined her a few moments later in the wheelhouse and he reached up and turned the radio off.

  ‘I was listening to that!’ she complained.

  ‘You can listen to it later. Right now I’d rather talk.’

  She gave him a quick, warning glance. ‘If it’s about Jimmy and your sister I don’t want to hear it. Talk about anything else but not them.’

  ‘All right. We’ll talk about you.’ He suddenly moved behind her and her eyes widened in shock as his hands slid round and cupped her breasts.

  She clung to the wheel and gulped. ‘Stop that! What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Passing the time in the pleasantest way I can think of in the circumstances.’ His voice was low and vibrant behind her ear.

  Beneath her thin T-shirt and flimsy bra she could feel herself swelling in response and he grunted with pleasure. ‘You have a body that cries out to be caressed and fondled, Carrie. You can’t deny what I can feel for myself.’

  Her legs trembled and she arced her back as his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on her neck, sending delicious tremors the length of her spine.

  ‘Don’t…’ she moaned. ‘Please, Nikos…no more…’

  Ignoring her mumbled and almost incoherent plea, his lips continued to nibble at her ear and neck. His hands left her breasts and she gasped as they dropped lower and insinuated themselves under her T-shirt. The muscles of her flat stomach tensed and jumped as his fingertips massaged her naked flesh gently.

  In harsh desperation she pleaded once more, ‘Please, Nikos…Stop it now.’

  His fingers were now inserting themselves under the waist of her jeans. ‘Do you really want me to stop, Carrie?’ he whispered seductively in her ear. ‘I’m not hurting you or harming you in any way, am I? I’m giving you something you’ve denied yourself too long—sensual pleasure.’

  He was going to give her a heart attack, she thought despairingly. Her ears were pounding and the blood was sizzling in her veins. Letting go the wheel, she clamped her fingers around his wrists and forced his hands away.

  With a sigh of regret, he stopped his provocative behaviour and leaned against the side-window with folded arms and a faint gleam of mockery in the depths of his eyes. ‘A pity. I was enjoying that,’ he drawled.

  ‘Well, pardon me for spoiling your fun,’ she said in a voice that still hadn’t quite recovered. ‘Keep your hands to yourself in future.’

  ‘I will,’ he said drily. ‘Until I’m invited, that is. Which you can’t keep putting off much longer.’

  Grimly she stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge that that possibility even existed.

  He changed the subject abruptly. ‘Your freight charges are too low. As far as I can work it out you’re barely going to cover your running costs on this trip.’

  ‘How I run my business is no concern of yours,’ she retorted coldly.

  He acknowledged the point with a sardonic smile. ‘Agreed. But as a businessman myself I’m intrigued to know how you manage to remain solvent.’

  She wished he’d go away and stop bothering her. He was still too damned close. And how did he always manage to look so cool? Her forehead and nose were shiny with perspiration and it was doing nothing for her self-esteem.

  His eyes kept questioning her and she knew he’d just keep prodding until he got an answer. She gave a shrug. ‘My charges are low because my customers are mostly poor peasants. Just like those two old men up there.’ She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. ‘There are over two thousand islands out there but most of them are too small and sparsely populated for the regular ferries to bother about.’ She brushed a lock of damp hair off her forehead with the back of her hand and went on scathingly, ‘No one bothers about those poor devils. It’s the tourists with the money they’re interested in. Give them cheap plonk and a second-rate bouzouki player in a tatty taverna and they think they’ve seen Greece. People like you should be ashamed of what’s happening out here on the islands. You’re neglecting one of the oldest and finest cultures in the world.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘People like me?’

  ‘That’s right!’ She was on her high horse now and ready to give it full rein. ‘The landowners… the shipowners…the people with power.’

  His voice cut at her like a whip. ‘I’m a Spirakis. My family doesn’t need outsiders coming here and lecturing us on our responsibilities.’

  The chilling blast of his condemnation robbed her of speech and she felt herself quaking under the force of his anger. The consternation on her face seemed to mollify him and at last his lips stretched in a grim smile of satisfaction. ‘Only a fool would believe such a sweeping statement. It might surprise you to know that I agree with everything you say. The smaller communities have been neglected for far too long and there’s no doubt that you’re performing a valuable social service.’

  ‘Yes…’ she muttered. ‘I’m glad you see it that way.’

  His anger lingered a moment longer then he said drily, ‘The point I was trying to make is that even a charity has to make enough profit to pay the overheads. There’s more to running a boat than recovering the cost of the fuel.’ He ticked the items off one by one on his fingers. ‘There’s depreciation. Maintenance. Harbour dues where necessary. Insurance…’

  She looked away guiltily and snapped, ‘I’ve already told you that it has nothing to do with you. Just forget it, will you?’

  He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘If you’ve managed to survive this long then there’s only one answer. You’re cutting corners somewhere.’

  She bit her lip and fixed her eyes on the horizon ahead.

  He continued to stare at her in an unnerving silence then he said quietly, ‘Insurance. That’s the answer, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she muttered angrily.

  ‘Don’t you?’ he taunted. ‘That’s why you wanted the piano in the hold. You’ve no cargo insurance. You’ve never lost a cargo yet and you don’t intend to. That’s what you told me? The truth is that you can’t afford to lose a cargo because it would ruin you.’

  Anger compounded by guilt bubbled up inside her and she looked at him resentfully. ‘Why should you care whether I’m ruined or not? I thought that was why you came here in the first place.’

  ‘We’ll talk about you later,’ he promised coldly. ‘It’s your hypocrisy that surprises me. What about those “poor peasants” you profess to care so much about? If the worst happened and they lost their few pitiful possessions at sea how would you manage to repay them?’

  ‘My unofficial insurance fund would take care of that,’ she snapped.

  ‘Unofficial insurance fund? What kind of animal is that?’

  She owed him no explanations whatsoever but she was goaded to wipe that smile of cynical disbelief off his face. ‘I’m just like you, Mr Spirakis. I don’t need a stranger coming here and lecturing me on my responsibilities. I never carry a cargo that is worth more than the amount of money I keep in my bank account. My customers know that. They trust me to make good on any losses. So far it hasn’t been necessary and because I don’t have to pay inflated premiums to some crooked insurance company I pass the savings on by charging lower freight rates.’

  He stood there digesting her explanation in silence and she muttered, ‘I don’t suppose it’s strictly legal. No doubt you can’t wait to report it to the authorities.’

  ‘Now what makes you think I’d do a thing like that, Carrie?’ he asked with unexpected softness. ‘The more I learn about you, the more I realise how similar we are in nature. When it comes to something close to our hearts neither of us minds bending the rules, do we?’

  By two o’clock that afternoon they’d reached their destination and unloaded their cargo. An hour later they were heading north-west to pick up another order when the storm descended on them.

  The first sign was the sudden drop in temperature that put goose-pimples on Carrie’s arms then she saw the ripples disturbing the ca
lm surface of the sea. A moment later Nikos stepped into the wheelhouse and scanned the horizon to the north through the binoculars. ‘You were right about the Meltemi,’ he muttered. ‘Here it comes.’

  The wheel gave a sudden kick under her hands as the first gust hit the Miranda on the starboard bow. She eased the wheel over and the bows started to rise and fall. It was a gentle motion at first but as the wind gathered strength the waves became higher. Confidently she steered the Miranda straight into the wind. Over her shoulder she said, ‘There’s no telling how long this will last. It would be a good idea to fill the Thermos flasks with hot coffee while we have the chance.’

  He grunted in her ear and left the wheelhouse. His easygoing acquiescence surprised and pleased her. She’d half expected him to come the macho bit, grab the wheel and tell her that making coffee was woman’s work.

  The wind began to flex its muscles. Experience had taught her to judge its strength by the noise it made gusting around the exposed wheelhouse. At the moment it was a low, keening moan—nothing to worry about.

  The wind gradually began to increase and the first smatterings of spray lashed against the front window. The Miranda, built to withstand a lot worse than this, battered her way blithely through the heaving swell and Carrie felt the familiar thrill of pitting her skill against the elements. This was where the new engine Nikos had installed would prove its worth or not, because if they lost power the Miranda would be pushed helplessly broadside to the towering seas and that would be the end.

  The keening moan went up a pitch to an angry howl and another, more violent lump of water hurled itself against the wheelhouse.

  The sea began breaking over the bows and rushing in torrents along the deck. The Miranda began to buck heavily, her bows rising high in the air then crashing down to bury themselves in the following wave. For the first time she felt her mouth go dry. Surely it couldn’t get any worse than this.

  Nikos returned to the wheelhouse and jammed the two flasks under the chart shelf.

  ‘It’s getting pretty rough!’ he shouted in her ear. ‘Is she handling all right?’

  She braced herself as the Miranda poised herself for another roller-coaster ride. ‘She.. .she’s fine. No problem. I told you she was well built.’

  ‘I hope so,’ he growled. ‘This is going to get a lot worse.’ He pressed his face close to the glass to survey the deck then he shouted, ‘The tarpaulin over the hold has come loose. I’ll have to go out and tie it.’

  She looked at the storm-lashed deck then turned to him in horror. ‘You’re crazy! You can’t go out there! You’ll be washed overboard.’

  ‘I’ll have to!’ he yelled back at her. ‘If the sea gets into the hold we’ll sink.’ His face became grave and his eyes held hers. ‘I’ll have to depend on you, Carrie. I’ll be all right if you keep the Miranda into the wind. Have you got the strength to do that?’

  Her eyes faltered and she ran her tongue nervously over her lips. ‘I…I think so.’

  He gave her a slow, confident grin. ‘Of course you can. Even if you can just prevent her rolling until I get that tarpaulin secured. That’s all that matters.’

  She reached out in a half-hearted effort to stop him but he swung himself out, dropped to the deck and went at a crouching run towards the hold. Watching through the window, she gasped as a torrent of water swept him off his feet. The Miranda reared skywards again, shedding its burden of sea, and Nikos was once again visible, flat on his stomach and clinging grimly to the base of the derrick. As the boat reached the crest of the gigantic wave he struggled to his feet and raced towards the combing surrounding the hold.

  Fighting against the tight band of panic in her chest, Carrie strained with the wheel. If the Miranda turned broadside and rolled Nikos would have no chance. She caught sight of him for a second before the bows buried themselves deep in the next wave and she uttered up a silent prayer.

  This was her fault, she realised bitterly. It had been her job to make sure the tarpaulin was securely over the hold after they’d unloaded. Hadn’t she been the one who’d predicted this storm? But if she’d known it was going to be as violent as this she’d have stayed in harbour. Even the huge ferries wouldn’t put to sea in conditions like this. She recalled her boast to Nikos about the Miranda being able to handle anything the Aegean could throw at her. Perhaps the old Greek gods had heard her and were now teaching her a lesson in humility.

  The seconds and minutes dragged by to the howling and crashing accompaniment of the elemental fury and she almost choked in relief as Nikos made it safely back to the wheelhouse. Soaked and with his chest heaving, he braced himself against the side-window and met her unspoken query with a nod to indicate that the job was done. After a moment he recovered his breath and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘I’ll take the wheel for a spell. See if you can pour a mugful of that coffee.’

  This time she was glad to hand it over. Her arms felt as if they needed splints and she doubted if she could have held the course much longer. She managed to pour the coffee from the Thermos without spilling too much and she used one hand to steady herself while she held the cup to his lips.

  He sipped gratefully and she kept offering it to him until the cup was empty and then she poured one for herself. ‘That was…’ The remark died and the cup fell from her nerveless fingers as she caught sight of the huge wall of water rearing up on them. With a squeal of horror she threw her arms around Nikos’s waist and clung to him like a limpet. One thought wiped every other from her mind. This was the end! When that wave crashed down on them it would smash the Miranda to matchwood.

  There was a tremendous roar and a clap like thunder and she felt the floor of the wheelhouse jolt beneath her feet. Water poured through the shattered roof and as she pressed her cheek against Nikos’s back she could feel the muscles and tendons writhing as he fought to control the wheel.

  Then somehow, miraculously, the wall of water was astern of them and the Miranda, shaken and only slightly wounded, continued plugging ahead. Shamefaced at her display of fear, she unwound her arms and was about to straighten up when he yelled, ‘You’d better hang on! We’re in more trouble! There’s something wrong with the steering.’

  Glancing over his shoulder, she could see the Miranda’s bows swinging to port while Nikos strained to turn the wheel. In the grip of the wind the boat began to list sideways until the port rail was almost under water then sluggishly she began to answer the helm. This time she went too far to starboard and with a curse Nikos heaved the wheel in the other direction.

  ‘Something’s broken!’ he shouted. ‘Either the rudder is loose or the steering linkage has been damaged.’

  White-faced with fear, she stood next to him and grabbed the wheel. ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ she shouted. She wasn’t sure how much her puny strength would help but it was better than standing doing nothing.

  He looked down at her, a grim smile on his face. ‘Thanks.’

  The storm lasted another hour. As suddenly as it had begun it blew itself out. The wind went to a low moan then died with a whimper, the waves subsided and the Miranda staggered over the calm sea like a punch-drunk boxer.

  Carrie almost collapsed with relief against the side of the wheelhouse and she let go a trembling sigh of weariness. ‘Thank God that’s over.’

  His face was finely drawn and lined with fatigue but he managed to give her a smile of encouragement. ‘You did well, Carrie.’

  She shook her head, a little embarrassed by the uncalled-for praise. ‘No, I didn’t. I was scared stiff.’

  ‘You think I wasn’t? Anyway, we’ll have to find some place to tie up so that I can assess the damage. I may be able to repair it myself, depending on how bad it is.’ He pointed out of the starboard window. ‘That looks like a small island about three miles away. Have a look through the glasses.’

  Her hands were still shaking as she peered through the binoculars but finally she was able to tell him with certainty, ‘There’s no sign of habitation. T
he shore looks rocky but there’s a sandy inlet at the southern end.’

  She watched as once more his sinewy arms strained at the wheel as he coaxed the reluctant Miranda on to her new course. At that point she should have left him to it and gone out on deck to inspect for further damage but she seemed to be rooted to the spot. Something was happening to her. Something scary. It was as if their brush with disaster had imposed an entirely new dimension on their relationship and as her eyes lingered on him the emotion that swelled in her heart was as sudden and frightening as the storm they’d just escaped.

  She averted her eyes and handed him his jeans as he clambered back over the stern rail. No sooner had they dropped anchor in the sheltered inlet than he’d stripped and dived overboard to inspect the rudder. The casual way he’d gone about it hadn’t been quite so shocking as the first time. With more insight into his character by now, she thought she was beginning to understand him. Nikos Spirakis was a man who made his own rules and acted as he thought fit regardless of anyone else. His selfassurance was firmly based in a belief in his own strength and rigid set of principles. He just didn’t give a damn for negative attitudes like false modesty.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with the rudder,’ he informed her. ‘It must be the linkage. Do you have a plan of the ship?’

  He was tightening his belt when she looked at him again. ‘Yes. It’s on the shelf above Jimmy’s bunk. I’ll go and fetch it.’

  Once he had the drawing he had no difficulty in determining the probable site of the problem.

  ‘You’ll never get in there,’ she protested when he removed the cover and showed her the narrow tunnel housing the steering linkage to the rudder. She eyed his wide shoulders. ‘You’ll get stuck.’