Chapter 30 · Predator in the Deep

The engines cut out at 2:14 a.m.

I know because of the brass clock screwed into the stateroom wall, and because I'd been staring at it for six hours, counting. Counting's the one thing Caspian couldn't take off me.

Two decks up, bare feet slapped wet teak. Four of them. Maybe five.

I rolled my wrist inside the cuff. The pin had been walking loose since midnight — one bobby pin, bent with my teeth, worked into the lock one millimeter at a time. Twenty more minutes and I'd have the bracelet off.

I didn't have twenty minutes.

"Ruiz."

The kid in the doorway didn't turn around. Twenty-five, maybe, neck tattoo, holding a Glock like it was something he borrowed and had to give back.

"Ruiz. You know what they're going to charge you with if this boat docks anywhere with me on it?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Then don't talk. Listen." I kept my voice flat as a courtroom floor. "Kidnapping in the first degree. That's twenty-five to life in New York, and you're the one they'll put in the photograph.