Her Secret Pirate by Gennita Low Page B

Was he all right? She didn’t know because everyone started running in different directions. The ship’s crew had returned fire but the pirates managed to get near enough to board. She heard someone shouting he’d put a hole in the pirate’s boat as the fighting intensified. Their security detail had protected them as they hurried down the stairs. So much shouting. And now, total silence.
    She was afraid. For herself. And for her father, who had been separated from her when the lights went off. Someone had roughly grabbed her and she’d kicked out at him, just the way Zone had taught her when he was instructing her class, and she’d escaped.
    Zone. Rebecca closed her eyes. She’d called him a pirate once. They’d snuck away on his motorcycle and once they were out in the country, they’d ridden around without their helmets. With the carelessly tied bandanna over his dark curly hair and his equally dark gypsy eyes, all he needed was an earring and longer braided hair. Pirate, she’d teased him. And he’d laughed and hauled her over his shoulder, threatening her with all sorts of delicious things pirates were supposed to do to their captives.
    Rebecca opened her eyes. Dammit. This wasn’t the time to think of Zone and her playing pirate. This was the real thing. With big evil men shooting up there and looking for her and Dad. She’d been in enough political mane uverin gs to understand now that they we re without their getaway boat, the pirates were going to need hostages and they were looking for the most obvious. Her father, the ambassador , would be the prime candidate. Of course, with them all separated, she had no idea whether they’ d captured him. She prayed for him to be safe.
    Down here alone, minu tes crawled by painfully . She’d lost her purse in the melee so she didn’t have a cell phone to get help or to even use for light. In the semi- dark ness , shadows loomed like monsters , and making her way around in unfamiliar surroundings was even scarier than being up on deck with bullets raining down. At least she could see up there. Here, she had no idea what was in front of her as she threaded as quietly as she could. Sounds were magnified. She jumped at every scrape and clatter as she tried to figure out what to do next. A bug crawled up her leg and she almost squeal ed in panic. The only thing helping her keep calm was the though t of the man who had taught her class to stay clear-headed in times of danger.
    Zone. She mouthed his name as sh e peered out into the darkness.
    They had an argument. It’d escalated from a simple discussion into their work; she was all about peace and he was all about war, or some such stupidly childish accusation. She’d been horrible, saying he was a killer. She was wrong. She knew it then but wouldn’t take back her words. Now the universe was punishing her by showing her how wrong she was, because at this very moment , real killers were looking for her. She almost screamed when somewhere above, a volley of gunfire interrupted the suffocating silence, almost in unison, like gunshots at a soldier’s funeral. What was happening on the deck?
    She drew back at a sound from around the corner, becoming louder. Flashlight zigzagged its way down the passageway towards her. Hurried footsteps. A loud thud. A curse in some language she didn’t know.
    Behind a stack of boxes, Rebecca flattened herself against the wall, trying not to breathe, trying to listen above her thudding heart. Her hand curled around the dinner knife she’d picked up. Training. She must remember all the moves she’d learned from Zone’s self-defense class.
    The flashlight came closer. She hoped her pursuer wouldn’t see her till he actually came close enough to inspect. Then maybe she had a chance of surprising him. The light became brighter as the man came closer and she could hear the first of the boxes being shoved aside. She’d moved a few of them aside to get to her hiding spot and knew they