A Tangled Web by Judith Michael Read Free Book Online Page A

catch his breath. No time, he thought; no time to breathe. He pulled off his shoes, and Stephanie’s, then lifted her and shoved her through the window and into the sea. And as she dropped, he dove in, just behind her.
    It had been two minutes since the explosion.
    He hit the water clumsily and fought his way to the surface. Debris churned around him in the waves rolling outward as the ship went down; he felt a piece of metal cut his hand, another struck his thigh. Treading water, he looked around. He was on the side of the ship away from shore, and except for some small boats speeding in his direction, he seemed to be alone. “Sabrina! Sabrina, for Christ’s sake . . .” Sputtering, coughing, he took a few lurching sidestrokes, favoring his bad shoulder, and found himself at the stern of the ship. He saw the hole in its side— the bomb, the fucking bomb, wasn’t supposed to go off until— and then he saw Stephanie, floating face down in water red with her blood, shards of wood and metal swirling around her.
    He reached her in an instant and twined his fingers in her thick hair to yank her head back and out of the water. He rolled her over, then hooked his left arm beneath her chin and swam with his other arm away from the ship. His clothes dragged him down, the water was colder than he had imagined, his head and shoulder throbbed, and he had to force his legs to keep moving. “ Bastardos, fucking bastardos, ” he said aloud, meaning all of them, the ones who had set the bomb to kill him, and his own men who should have been there by now to pick him up.
    Stephanie floated, her face colorless, pale veins tracing across her dead white eyelids. Max could see the gash in her forehead now; he thought it was not as bad as all the blood had made it seem. She’ll be all right, he thought. She’ll be fine. She’s tough; I always liked her toughness.
    But he was so tired he could barely stay afloat. It would be easier without her. Easier alone. He’d known that all his life: it was easiest to go alone. But he held on to her. He remembered that spurt of joy when he knew she was alive, though he could not recapture it now. Verfluchen, he swore wearily. Sons of bitches. Said they’d be close by . . .
    The motorboat was beside him before he saw it; the men had cut the engine and maneuvered through the debris to come close without setting up high waves. “Sorry, boss,” one of them said. “Didn’t think it’d go off this early. You want her, too?”
    â€œFuck it!” Max exploded.
    â€œOkay, right.” The two men reached down and dragged Stephanie into the boat. “Grab my arm,” the first one said to Max, and pulled him in as the other man started the engine. The small boat leaped away, its prow high out of the water. Max lay beside Stephanie in the bottom of the boat, out of sight, while the men kept fishing poles and nets raised high and looked straight ahead as they tore through the water.
    Max slid a life preserver beneath Stephanie’s head, then ripped off his shirt and pressed it to the bleeding gash in her forehead. Holding it there, he lay back again, breathing deeply. Now, he thought; now I can breathe. But then he heard one of the men say, “She’s gone,” and he raised himself and looked behind them. He stared at the widening circle of debris and the motorboats bobbing a little distance away. Rescue boats were approaching from shore. That was all he saw. The Lafitte was gone.
    â€œA beaut, that bomb,” one of his men said cheerfully.
    Max looked at him until the man’s cheer faded. “Why the fuck did you wait so long to tell me about it?”
    â€œI didn’t wait! I told you as soon as I knew! I didn’t hear word one about a bomb, about any plans for a bomb, until today. I don’t know; maybe they were starting to wonder about me—”
    â€œI pay you so they don’t