Dark Avenger

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists behind her back. ‘It isn’t that bad. I admit that it might be old but it’s perfectly good once it gets going. Jimmy can fix it. He’s done it often enough before without any trouble.’

A grim smile played across the stranger’s lips. ‘Ah, yes. James Stevens. Or Jimmy as you so fondly call him. Unfortunately he isn’t here when you need him, is he?’ He glanced at his Rolex. ‘That’s a pity. I was told that it was imperative that you delivered your latest cargo to Desvos by eight tonight. That’s a good six-hour trip for a vessel in this condition. It has already gone two.’

‘We’ll make it,’ she said with more defiant assurance than she felt. Damn Jimmy! If he had been here on time they’d be on their way to Desvos by now.

The stranger removed his shirt and hung it carefully on the rail. The action took her completely by surprise and she found herself staring in fascination at his tanned, lean and muscular body. Under the sunlight his skin seemed to glow like dark silk. At last she found her voice and she gulped. ‘Wh—what are you doing?’

‘I’m going to fix that engine,’ he said curtly. ‘And you, Miss Stevens, are going to go below and tidy yourself up so that I can see what you really look like.’

Her mouth opened in protest then she hurriedly closed it. There was a do-it-or-else look in those green eyes that sent a shiver of fear down her spine. This was not the kind of man you argued with, she told herself. You could tell he was used to having people jump at his command and though he had no legal right to be on board she wasn’t about to discuss the finer points of the law with him. He wouldn’t pay any attention in any case.

With an almighty effort she assumed an air of indifference and shrugged. ‘I was just about to have a wash when you came aboard. And if tinkering with engines makes you happy then go ahead. I don’t want to spoil your fun.’

Hurriedly she turned her back on him and went below, securing the hatch firmly behind her. Who the devil was he and what did he want? she wondered. People with handmade Italian shoes and Rolex watches didn’t hire boats like the Miranda. They were more likely to go along the coast to the place owned by the Spirakis family and hire one of their gleaming motor cruisers.

She frowned. Unless…unless he was up to something shady. Like smuggling, for example! Did he look like a shady character? Yes, she decided. Very shady indeed. And dangerous. Like someone from the Greek Mafia, if there was such a thing.

Well, as soon as Jimmy got back they’d tell him that they weren’t interested in anything like that and send him packing.

In her tiny cabin she stripped off, lit the Ascot in the tiny bathroom and scrubbed herself under a hot shower. Drying herself quickly, she donned a clean pair of jeans and a white cotton T-shirt then attacked her hair with a brush.

After a moment she laid down the brush and reached up for the faded picture of her father, which was pinned to the bulkhead. It had been taken shortly before he died and in the picture he was standing on the deck of the Miranda, grinning and looking indestructible. Any time she felt disheartened and ready to pack it all in she just had to look at this picture and it made her feel better, stronger and ready to fight for what was hers and Jimmy’s.

The Miranda had been her father’s pride and joy. An ex-navy man, he’d always dreamed of owning his own boat one day but marriage had put that dream on hold. When her mother had been alive he’d worked industriously in a nine-to-four office job, hating it but never complaining.

She’d been twelve and Jimmy had only been six when their mother had been killed. Just out shopping, for heaven’s sake! One minute strolling home from Tesco with a carrier of chicken breasts and cold ham and in an instant her life taken by some drunken fool of a company director driving home after a boozy lunch.

It had left them all shattered. But the agony hadn’t ended there. The driver had got off with a five-hundred-pound fine and two years’ suspension. There was justice for you! She’d often wondered since then if the driver and the judge had been members of the same old boys’ club. Probably. It was a lousy world and these things happened.

The compensation paid by the driver’s insurance company had been equally derisory and in disgust her father had suddenly whisked her and Jimmy off to Greece. Later he’d told her that there had been too many memories of her mother and he could never face the thought of spending the rest of his life in an office.

He’d found Miranda, drowsing and neglected at a quayside in a place called Kiparissia. She was a converted sixty-foot fishing boat and they’d all fallen in love with her at first sight. Her father had found the owner and completed the deal that very day and two days later they had headed south round Cape Matapán then east into the Aegean with its thousands of islands scattered like green emeralds across the vast blue shimmering sea.

For two months her father had been content to sail whenever the spirit moved him. Somewhere at the back of his mind he must have been wondering how they were going to live when the money ran out but he was content to leave that in the hands of fate, and it so happened that fate duly obliged.

One afternoon they had dropped anchor in a secluded bay on a tiny island when they were hailed frantically from the shore by a man waving a handkerchief. Her father had rowed ashore in the dinghy to see what was the matter and had duly returned with the news that he’d been hired to transport a wedding party of fifteen to the next island.

It seemed that the owner of the boat which was supposed to have taken them had celebrated too freely the previous night and was still out of combat.

They’d no sooner done that job than a guest at the wedding hired them to transport a dozen sheep to the nearest market.

By word of mouth their business had grown. The larger islands were served by the regular ferry lines but the smaller and more remote communities were badly in need of such a service as the Miranda could provide.

It had been the most wonderful two years of her life but it couldn’t last. Their father had rightly enough decided that their education was being sadly neglected and, much to their dismay and his sorrow, he’d sent them back to separate boarding-schools in England.

After the free and easy life aboard the Miranda the rigours and discipline of a strict school had been like a douche of cold water, but looking back on it now she knew that it had been a valuable experience.

Greece of course was only a few hours away by plane and every school holiday had found her and Jimmy flying out to spend another few glorious weeks with their father.

Then she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Even now, seven years later, she still felt sick at heart when she thought about it. She’d been eighteen, and with her father’s approval she’d decided to stay in England and go to university, but she’d never even got as far as applying for a place. Oh, no. Trust her to make a mess of everything.

She pinned the picture of her father back on the bulkhead then stared at herself in the mirror. No. She wasn’t going to think about Victor. That was all in the past. It was history and she had no desire to re-open old wounds.

Hurt and bewildered at the time, her first thought had been to rejoin her father but she’d had second thoughts. For one thing, Jimmy had still been at school and it might have seemed to him that he was being deserted and forgotten. But there had also been a darker and deeper reason—guilt and a feeling of self-disgust. A failed relationship surely didn’t mean that she herself was a failure, did it? The only way to find out was to stay and try to make it on her own.

She’d enrolled in a college for a two-year course in business studies, then, armed with her diploma, she’d set out, brimming with confidence, to land a job worthy of her talents.

Well, there were jobs in plenty. Part-time checkout operator. Part-time barmaid or waitress. Girls with better qualifications than she had were cleaning offices to earn a living.

Things would get better once the recession was over, they kept telling her. She’d eventually landed a job with a travel agency where her knowledge of the Greek islands and proved a great asset, but the sight of all those tempting travel brochures had only unsettled her and made her long once more for the feel of a deck beneath her feet. Nevertheless she had stuck it out.

It was two years later when her father had died in a sudden and tragic accident. Jimmy had left school by now and had started an apprenticeship in a local garage. They had both flown out in time for the funeral and found comfort in each other’s arms at this time of the greatest grief they had ever known.

When the service was over they had both shaken hands with the many friends who’d come to pay their last respects, then their father’s lawyer had driven them to his office.

There was a little money, he had explained, but if they were interested he could dispose of the Miranda for them. He was sure he could find a buyer prepared to pay a reasonable price.

‘No!’ She and Jimmy had turned down the offer in unison and they had looked at each other in mutual understanding. The Miranda had been their father’s dream and to sell it to a stranger would be an insult to his memory. Besides, England no longer held anything for them. They’d keep the Miranda and carry on the business their father had started.

The lawyer had looked at them doubtfully but when she had assured him that she and Jimmy could easily handle the Miranda between them he’d reluctantly given in and agreed to see to the necessary formalities and paperwork.

Three days later, full of confidence and with a list of their father’s regular calls, they had set off in the Miranda to deliver a load of piping and a water pump destined to make life easier for the villagers on a tiny island south of Naxos…

The faint noise broke into her thoughts and she felt the slight tremor as the engine began throbbing. Good. Jimmy must have returned. Now she could tell that interfering stranger to go away and mind his own business.

Her blue eyes stared back at her critically from the mirror. The years in the sun had bleached her naturally blonde hair to platinum. Usually, for practical reasons, she kept it short, but she hadn’t been near a hairdresser for months. Now she simply tied it back carelessly with a black ribbon. She never wore make-up, not even on the rare occasions when they found themselves calling at one of the larger islands during the tourist season. Her complexion and colouring were entirely due to her active outdoor way of life. No cosmetic had yet been made that could compete against sunshine and soft rain.

Finally she slipped her feet into a pair of ropesoled sandals and made her way up on deck.

Emerging into the daylight, she stood for a moment frozen in surprise, then she gasped in outrage. Not only had the stranger managed to start the engine, he’d also cast off the bow and stern lines and was now in the wheelhouse, and they were already a hundred yards away from the jetty and heading out to the open sea!

Frantically she gazed around the deck and into the engine compartment but there was no sign of her brother. Furiously she called up to the wheelhouse, ‘Hey! You there! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Turn this boat round immediately.’

The stranger ignored her for a few moments while he consulted the compass reading then he locked the wheel and casually descended to the deck to confront her.

He still wasn’t wearing his damn shirt, she noted with discomfort, and she glared at him. ‘Turn this boat round. My brother isn’t here yet.’

The green eyes were now roving over her body with an intense interest and the raising of a dark, quizzical eyebrow gave his lean features an even more devilish look. ‘Surely you can’t be the woman I was talking to a few minutes ago?’ he drawled. ‘She was shapeless and covered in oil. You can’t possibly be the Carrie Stevens I came to see. Are you?’

She felt practically naked under his hard stare of undisguised lust and her mouth went dry. ‘L-look…’ she stammered ‘…you’ve no right to—’

He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘I hadn’t expected anyone quite so sexually attractive, Miss Stevens. But the fact that you are will make my mission a pleasure rather than mere duty.’

She had no idea what he was talking about but by the sound of it she was in deep trouble. Taking a deep breath, she put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m going to report this act of piracy to the police. You’ll be in big trouble.’

‘No, you won’t, Miss Stevens.’ He suddenly showed a row of white teeth in a shark-like ironic smile. ‘“Miss Stevens” sounds far too formal. Since we’re going to have a very intimate relationship I think I’ll call you Carrie from now on. I am Nikos Spirakis.’ He paused and for a moment his jade eyes gleamed with cold amusement. ‘Does that name mean anything to you, Carrie?’

She let her eyes smoulder at him in anger for a moment then she snapped, ‘No. Why should it? I’ve never…’ She paused as a sudden thought flashed into her head. Spirakis? No, it couldn’t be! And yet…There was something about him. He had that cold selfassurance that only wealth and power could bestow. She looked at him more closely then said hesitantly, ‘The…the only Spirakis I’ve heard of is the family who own half the ships and olive groves…’