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“An eye for an eye, Miss Stevens.”
Nikos gave Carrie a grim smile. “A tooth for a tooth. I’m sure you’re familiar with the biblical reference?” He nodded with ironic amusement. “It’s only common justice, after all. What your brother did to my sister I can easily do to his.” He paused, then showed his teeth in another smile of grim anticipation. “I’m going to make you pregnant, Miss Stevens. Gloriously and abundantly pregnant.”
ALEX RYDER was born and raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, and is married with three sons. She took an interest in writing when, to her utter amazement, she won a national schools competition for a short essay about wild birds. She prefers writing romance fiction because at heart she’s just a big softie. She works now in close collaboration with a scruffy old oneeyed cat who sits on the desk and yawns when she doesn’t get it right, but winks when she does.
Dark Avenger
Alex Ryder
CCARRIE had pleaded, cajoled and threatened but nothing seemed to work. She gave one final frustrated push at the starter button but the ancient diesel engine refused determinedly to fire up. Swearing softly under her breath, she backed out of the cramped engine compartment and climbed on to the deck for a breath of fresh air.
She shouldn’t have to be doing this, she thought angrily. Looking after the engine was Jimmy’s job and he’d promised to be back an hour ago. Shading her eyes against the glare of the sun, she impatiently scanned the jetty for any sign of her young brother. She was going to chew his ears off when she got her hands on him. Her gaze took in the white-painted houses and shops facing the harbour. More than likely he was sitting in some taverna staring soulfully into the dark eyes of some young local beauty. Well, that was all very well. He was a red-blooded nineteen-year-old and he was only doing what came naturally but it was high time he remembered his responsibilities. They had a living to make. If that load of supplies wasn’t delivered to the archeological team on Desvos by tonight, as promised, that would be one more customer they could kiss goodbye to.
A trickle of sweat glistened on her slender throat and ran down her neck. She wouldn’t mind sitting in a taverna sipping a cool drink herself, she thought. The August heat in the Aegean could be fierce and as she looked over the side she was almost tempted to dive into the clear blue water and cool off.
The Miranda rocked gently beneath her feet in the slight ripples made by a boat leaving harbour and she wiped the sweat off her brow with an oily rag. They needed a new engine. No, dammit, she thought, let’s not kid ourselves, Carrie Stevens. Miranda was getting old and she really needed a thorough overhaul and paint job, but as always it was time and money that was the problem. Financial survival depended on them providing a regular and reliable service between the smaller and more isolated islands. A thorough overhaul would take a month at least and that was long enough for some rival to step in and take over.
She looked along the jetty again, then, frowning with annoyance, she descended once more into the engine compartment.
She jabbed the starter again but the hope on her face turned to despair as the engine merely coughed instead of bursting into life as it was supposed to do.
This had happened before. Jimmy had merely grunted then grabbed a spanner and done the business and got the engine going. She should have paid more attention but she’d always had a thing about anything mechanical. A sort of mental block. Even her father, when he’d been alive, had never managed to get around that block. He’d taught her good seamanship and she knew the weather, tides and currents and how to read a chart. With a chronometer and a sextant she could navigate her way round the world if need be but the mysteries of valves, pumps and pistons were a closed book as far as she was concerned.
But things were going to have to change from now on, she told herself. They both had an equal stake in the Miranda and they’d have to learn each other’s jobs so that in an emergency either of them could handle the boat on their own. Then again she’d had the feeling recently that Jimmy had other things on his mind. The day might well come when he’d get tired of nursing this old wreck back and forth between islands. He might very well decide to go back to England, find a nice girl and settle down, and who could blame him?
If the worst did happen she’d simply grit her teeth and carry on by herself. She certainly had no intention of ever returning to England. There were too many bitter memories for that. The Miranda might have seen better days but at least she provided something which Carrie had learnt to value above all else: independence. She’d tried trading that in once for the promise of a wedding-ring but Victor’s promises, like everything else about him, had proved worthless.
With mounting frustration she pushed the starter a few more times. There was the usual whine then an abrupt silence which was broken by a voice from the deck. ‘You’re going to end up with a flat battery if you keep doing that.’
Turning her head awkwardly, she saw the tall figure silhouetted against the blue sky beyond the hatch.
She frowned in irritation at the stranger’s unwarranted trespass on to her boat then thought better of it. He might be a potential customer and right now she needed all the business she could get.
Emerging on to the deck, she once more blinked in the strong sunlight and looked at the visitor apologetically. ‘The engine won’t…’ Her voice trailed off in confusion as the impact of his appearance made itself felt.
‘Won’t what?’ he asked in a deep masculine voice.
‘Start,’