No Escape by Michelle Gagnon Read Free Book Online

parked close together in narrow slots. Some were battered workboats, with barnacles and algae smearing their hulls. As she progressed, they increased in scale until she was threading between daysailers and trawlers, cabin cruisers and sloops. Glancing back again, she realized with relief that, at least for the moment, she’d managed to lose them.
    The voices sounded like they were spreading out—the search would slow them down. And it was unlikely they’d be able to check every boat for her.
    There was also no way she could keep running. As her adrenaline reserves dissipated, her muscles started to protest. She felt weak, exhausted. The pain in her chest had escalated until it felt like someone was punching each breath into her, and her foot killed. She finally slowed to check it: bleeding, but not too badly. Despite the core heat she’d built up running, she was shivering. She needed to find real clothes, and some shoes. And if she kept going, she risked charging straight into one of her pursuers.
    Noa scanned the boats, looking for one that would suit her purposes. A hundred feet away towered a miniyacht, with a sleek cherry hull and a dive platform hanging low over the back of the trailer.
    She raced toward it.
    Without breaking stride, Noa grabbed the rung of the ladder leading to the dive platform. She slung herself up and over the gunwales and dropped to the deck. She lay there, keeping very still as she tried to control her breathing.
    Footsteps approaching. They suddenly slowed. Noa stopped breathing entirely as they paused. The deck of the boat was ten feet off the ground; she could hear someone panting just below her.
    “Where the hell did she go?” a guy gasped.
    “Damned if I know.” The second voice was deep and guttural, the accent more Rhode Island than Boston. “Wicked fast for a little girl. How’d she get out?”
    “Jim was supposed to be watching her.”
    A snort in response. “Figures.”
    “Cole is gonna go ballistic when he finds out.”
    At that, they fell silent. Out of the corner of her eye, Noa saw a smear of blood on the gunwale where she’d stepped on it. She must have left other traces on the blacktop and ladder. She silently prayed that they wouldn’t notice.
    A radio crackled.
    “I’ll get it,” Rhode Island muttered. After an electronic chirp, he said, “Yeah?”
    “We’re meeting in the far east quadrant to regroup.” The voice coming through the radio was authoritative and deadly serious. Cole , Noa guessed. He didn’t sound like someone you’d mess with.
    “Roger that,” Rhode Island replied. Another chirp, and he laughed. “You believe this guy? ‘Far east quadrant,’ like we’re back in Haji-land.”
    “No kidding. Man, I hope this doesn’t take long. I wanted to catch the end of the game,” the other guy said.
    The voices started to move away. Noa waited a few moments, then released her held breath. She was ten feet from the door to the main cabin. She crawled forward quickly on her belly, then reached up to turn the handle. The door was locked. She fell back against the deck and gritted her teeth. Finding it open would have been too much to hope for.
    Noa scanned the deck for something to pick the lock. She knew from past experience that boat locks were designed more to stymie problem teenagers than experienced burglars. Luckily, she just happened to be both.
    The deck was clear except for a small tackle box tucked beneath one of the benches lining the railings. As quietly as possible, Noa eased over and got it open. Scrounging around inside, she found a small fishhook: not ideal, but it would have to do.
    It took five minutes to pick the lock. It would have been quicker, but the throbbing in her chest and foot was distracting. Plus she was forced to work at an odd angle, reaching up with her arm. Twice she had to yank it down as more guards passed the boat.
    Noa waited another minute, straining to detect anyone nearby, then slowly opened the cabin door