A Tangled Web by Judith Michael Read Free Book Online

called her by her name. And she spoke her husband’s name.”
    Sabrina looked at her, waiting.
    â€œHer name was Sabrina,” the woman said. “And the husband’s name was Max.”

Part II

CHAPTER 4

    T he explosion ripped open the Lafitte ’s staterooms, flinging debris in a wide arc above the Mediterranean. The roar echoed off the white and pink buildings on the shore, causing cries of alarm in the streets and cafés of Monte Carlo. Those who had binoculars grabbed them, but saw little in the turbulence of waves and wreckage. On the ship, within seconds, water flooded the elegant quarters where Max Stuyvesant had entertained and made love, and the crew’s quarters below, and within minutes the ship began to sink. It was five-thirty in the afternoon of an overcast October day.
    Stephanie and Max were flung across the lounge by the force of the explosion. Stephanie’s head struck a corner of a steel-and-glass cocktail table, and she lay beside it like a rag doll. Max was thrown against the end of the mahogany bar, and he huddled there, trying to catch his breath, the words the bomb, too early, the bomb, too early . . . pounding through his head.
    He heard no screams or cries for help, only an eerie silence broken by the angry slapping of waves against theship as it rocked and shuddered beneath him. Christ, blew the whole thing . . . He forced himself up on all fours and shook his head like a dog shaking off water. Pain shot through his left shoulder, and he shifted his weight to his right arm as he tried to stand. He fell back and, muttering a steady stream of curses, crawled across the room to the high, wide window, not thinking of anything now but getting away. He pulled himself up to the windowsill, grunting, swearing, soaked with sweat. The glass was shattered; he had a clear way out.
    With his right arm he pulled himself up to the sill, then he swiveled and swung one leg out. And as he turned, he saw Stephanie on the floor, her eyes closed, blood running down her face.
    â€œSabrina—” It came out as a gasp. My God, they’ve killed her. He wiped away the sweat running into his eyes and thought he saw her move. Or it might have been the rocking of the ship. “Christ!” he burst out. He swung his leg back into the lounge to go to her, then stopped. He couldn’t wait; he had to get away. She was dead and he was alive; his men would be waiting for him, and he had to get the hell out of here before the ship went down. He pushed his other leg through the window and tensed to leap into the water.
    But he could not stop himself from taking one quick look back, and when he did he saw Stephanie’s head roll to the side into a thin stream of water trickling in beneath the door. As he watched, the water flowed faster and then the force of it burst the door open and a torrent gushed in. Max knew he could not leave her like that. He had to know if she was alive, and if she was. he had to keep her with him.
    He swung his legs around and dropped back into the room, gasping with the pain. Broke something, he thought. No, probably not that bad. He knelt in the water beside Stephanie. “Sabrina! God damn it, Sabrina, wake up, help me . . .
    â€œ Merde. ” He was cursing now in whatever languagebroke through the panic building inside him. He held his fingers against Stephanie’s neck and found the thread of a pulse. Alive. God damn, she’s alive. A wellspring of joy sprang up within him, so powerful it stunned him. Wait. Think about it later. Got to get us out of here.
    He gripped Stephanie’s hands and, crawling backwards through the water, dragged her to the window, fighting dizziness and the pain in his leg and left shoulder. She was deadweight, and he slipped on the wet floor as he struggled to push her up until she lay over the windowsill like a burlap sack. Gasping, coughing, he pulled himself up to sit beside her and