Dark Avenger

The anger in her eyes turned to bitter defeat and she muttered savagely, ‘All right! I give you my promise not to leave the harbour. Does that satisfy you?’

He contemplated her calmly for a moment then shook his head. ‘I don’t know yet whether you’re trustworthy or not. I’ll find out in time but until then I prefer to keep an eye on you.’

There had to be some sophisticatedly cutting reply to that but she couldn’t think of it. Finally her shoulders slumped in obvious surrender and he nodded in satisfaction. ‘That’s better. First I’m going to arrange for a change of clothes and other essentials. Then we’re going to enjoy a meal and a few drinks like any other normal and friendly couple. Now why don’t you cheer up and make the best of it?’

She looked at him with wrathful indignation and gritted, ‘I’ll make the best of it but don’t ever get the idea that I could conceivably enjoy your company.’

He tilted her chin upwards with his forefinger and grinned. ‘You can at least pretend, can’t you? After all, you’re going to have to do it sooner or later.’

The street along the seafront was a bedlam of noise with loud music blaring from speakers hung outside tavernas and nightclubs.

Ignoring the cheaper eating establishments, he led her to a quieter part of town and presently she found herself being ushered through the impressive foyer of a rather de luxe hotel and unerringly steered towards the room marked ‘gourmet restaurant’. She noted the white linen tablecloths and the gleaming silver.

They had barely entered when a large, rotund man with enormous whiskers issued from a sidedoor and greeted Nikos warmly. Like two long-lost brothers they spoke to each other in a torrent of Greek until Nikos paused and took the trouble to introduce her. ‘Stavros, this is Miss Stevens. She also is in the shipping business.’ He eyed her with cool amusement then added, ‘At the moment we’re discussing a merger.’

The sarcasm was meant for her and not the owner, who gave her a comical little bow. ‘It is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Stevens. Nikos and I have been friends for a long time.’

She smiled back politely. Any friend of Nikos Spirakis was no friend of hers but she wasn’t going to make a case out of it. The evening was going to be difficult enough as it was.

Stavros led them to a secluded table then gave a signal to a hovering waiter who came over smartly with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Nikos examined the bottle and raised an eyebrow. ‘Cava Clauss! How did you manage to get hold of this?’

The owner beamed with pleasure at the reaction and he spread his hands. ‘With great difficulty, Nikos. I keep a special stock of it for friends such as yourself.’

Nikos handed it back to the waiter who obligingly filled two glasses. Carrie lifted hers reluctantly and took a sip. She usually prefered white to red but this was surprisingly good, dry and very full-bodied. She took another, larger sip, then, realising that the owner was watching her with anxiety, she laid down her glass and said, ‘I like it.’

His face split into another grin and he turned to Nikos. ‘Miss Stevens has excellent taste. Perhaps she would like to order now?’

Nikos handed her the menu but she ignored it. ‘I’d like souvlaki if you have it.’

‘And I’ll have the same,’ said Nikos. ‘But first I’d like a pen and some paper, Stavros.’

With a snap of his fingers Stavros sent the waiter scurrying off to fetch the requirements and when he’d returned Nikos scribbled down a page of instructions and handed them to Stavros. ‘Can you take care of all this for me, old friend?’

Stavros read the list then grinned. ‘No problem. Everything will be taken care of to your satisfaction.’

When he’d gone she looked across the table suspiciously. ‘What was all that about?’

‘A shopping list,’ he answered casually. ‘Now, sit back and relax and enjoy your wine.’

Relax? Now there was a laugh for you. She helped herself to another sip then took in her surroundings with grudging approval. On the few occasions when she and Jimmy found time to dine ashore it was usually in some cheap and cheerful taverna. This place looked as if they charged an arm and a leg—not that that would matter to a Spirakis. He probably had shares in the place.

At the moment he seemed content just to sit there, drinking his wine and watching her under those dark, brooding brows of his. She tried her best to ignore him and spent half the time staring over his head and the other half examining the pattern on the carpet.

When the meal arrived it at least gave her the chance to concentrate on something else. She shouldn’t have felt the least bit hungry. Stress and anger had being doing terrible things to her digestion but quite suddenly her appetite came back. Perhaps it was the wine or the delicious smell of the spit-roasted lamb and the well presented salad. Anyway…at least he was paying for it.

When they’d finished and the plates had been removed he refilled the wine glasses. She’d already had two with her meal and that was normally her limit but what the hell. Her situation as of now could hardly be described as normal. She’d never been drunk in her life but perhaps this was the time.

She was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to hear what he’d said at first and it was only the mention of the Miranda that caught her attention. ‘What about the Miranda?’ she asked sharply.

‘I was saying that in spite of her looks she’s a fine craft,’ he repeated patiently. ‘She’s not Greekbuilt. How did you come by her?’

She’d had no intention of indulging in any kind of conversation with him if she could help it but he’d hit right on her weak spot.

‘She was my father’s,’ she told him. ‘After he died Jimmy and I took her over. And you’re right. She’s not Greek. She was originally a seine netter built in Scotland to withstand the rigours of the North Sea. She can handle anything the Aegean throws at her.’

She saw the amused tilt of disbelief on his brows and she felt irritated. Well, if he intended staying with her for the next month there was a good chance they’d be caught at sea by the Meltemi, the vicious wind that struck suddenly from the north. Then with any luck he’d turn green and spend his time retching over the side. Or was that too much to hope for?

‘Tell me about your father. What kind of man was he?’

Damn him. That was another of her weak spots.

Somehow the evening wore on. Another bottle of wine had appeared on the table and already it was half-empty and she wondered how much of the stuff you had to drink before it had any effect on you.

Eyeing her inquisitor with sullen exasperation, she said with heavy sarcasm, ‘Why don’t you ask me what I had for breakfast this morning? You’ve asked just about everything else.’

‘Not quite,’ he said suavely. ‘Tell me about this ex-boyfriend of yours. Was he a good lover?’

She blinked at him, affronted at his sheer cheek. ‘That’s none of your damned business,’ she snapped angrily.

His voice growled across the table at her, low and threatening, ‘I’m making it my business. So tell me.’

Undaunted, she glared right back at him. ‘I won’t tell you. And there’s no way you can make me.’

He merely sighed and for a moment he sat running his finger around the rim of his glass while his green eyes studied her thoughtfully, then he said, ‘You still don’t seem to be aware of the position you’re in, Carrie, so I’ll make it clear to you once more. I don’t intend to spend the next month listening to your insults and looking at that scowling face. From now on you’ll do exactly as you’re told and you’ll at least make a pretence at enjoying my company.’

‘I’m not that good an actress,’ she retorted bitterly. ‘You’re asking the impossible.’

He sighed heavily again. ‘I see.’ Slowly he got to his feet and looked down at her coldly. ‘In that case I’ll leave you. I can catch the late-night ferry and attend to your brother personally first thing in the morning. He may require a few days’ hospitalisation after his “accident” but I’m sure he’ll be walking about without too much discomfort in a week or so.’

Her blue eyes widened in horror at the threat and she gasped, ‘For God’s sake! No! You wouldn’t… you couldn’t…’ Her voice trailed off and a voice in her head said, Oh, yes, he could. He’s a damned barbarian. He wouldn’t give it a second’s thought.

He towered over her, waiting.

‘P-please,’ she stammered. ‘Please sit down.’

‘Only if I have your promise to behave in a more civil manner from now on.’

This was unreal, she thought dizzily. Worse than the worst nightmare she could think of.

Lowering her eyes, she bit at her lip then muttered grimly, ‘You win. I…I promise.’

‘That’s not quite good enough, Carrie,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘You’re supposed to smile up at me and say, “Yes, Nikos, I promise.” ‘

So not only did he like sticking the knife in but he enjoyed giving it a twist, she thought savagely. It looked as if she was dealing with a sadist here. She raised her eyes and almost choked over the words. ‘Yes, Nikos. I…I promise.’

‘Hmm.’ He regarded her doubtfully, a faintly sardonic grin curling on his lip. ‘I suppose that will have to do. It wasn’t much of a smile but with a bit of practice it’ll be better.’ He regained his seat and folded his arms. ‘Now tell me what I want to know. Was your ex-boyfriend a good lover?’