Stefano turns to look, dragging my feet across the floor as he shifts to the left. I’ve just glimpsed the empty stairwell when he shudders against me, grunts, and then slumps heavily to the floor.
I stumble forward, sucking in a deep breath as I spin, prepared to disarm Stefano. But he’s out cold, blood leaking from a gash on the back of his head and my stolen gun already in Nick’s hand.
“Metal knob.” Nick holds up a large dial covered in blood. “Hopefully, it wasn’t something we’ll need to steer the ship.” He sets it aside and steps over the unconscious Stefano. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I say with a firm nod and hold out my hand for the gun. “I’ll go get Beatrice and tie up Tony. You keep us from running aground.”
“No, you stay here and—”
“I’ve never driven a boat, Nick,” I cut in. “If you have any experience, we’ll be safer with you at the wheel. And if Stefano comes to, you’ll have a better chance against him without a weapon than I would.”
Nick’s breath rushes out, but he places the gun in my hand. “Fine, but be careful. Push Tony overboard if you have to. He’s a little fish. Blaire and Stefano are the ones we need to turn over to the team at the airport.”
“Got it. You be careful, too. No dying allowed today.”
“No. Not today.” His gaze locks on mine, sharp and penetrating. “Get back here soon and safe.”
Nodding again, I lift the gun to eye level and make my way softly down the stairs to the deck, hoping to surprise Tony while he’s focused on Beatrice.
Instead, I find Tony backed against the railing at the rear of the boat with his hands up while Beatrice threatens him with…a cattle prod?
“Hey, Bea, it’s me.” I stand beside her, keeping my gun trained on Tony’s midsection. I glance up, wincing at the knot on her head, clearly visible through her wavy hair. “How’s the noggin’?”
She sighs. “Good. Fine. I mean, it hurts, but I’m okay.” Letting the cattle prod fall to her side, she turns to face me. “Are you all right? Nick?”
“All good.” I divide my attention between her and Tony, though the way he’s slumped against the railing, clutching his hands to his stomach, makes me think he doesn’t have much fight left in him. “And Stefano’s out of commission. Nick’s steering us to the airport. We should have people there to take these guys into custody.”
“Thank God.” Her shoulders sag. “I am so ready to get off this island and away from people who want to kill me.”
“Well, the good news—you learned you’re pretty fierce when you need to be,” I say, nodding toward the prod. “Where did you find that?”
“In the same bin where I found the binoculars and the fishing net. I think they use it for stunning really big fish or something?” She glances back at Tony, her eyes narrowing. “Whatever they use it for, you didn’t like it, did you, Tony? I can’t believe you made me stab you with electricity. I’m not a violent person. I hate this kind of stuff. Really hate it!”
“It’s not my fault Stefano is who he is,” Tony says, his gaze fixed on Beatrice. “Seriously. I’m not a bad guy, Bea. I always played it straight with you. As straight as I could.”
“Stop.” Bea rubs her forehead as the boat slows and subtly changes course, proving Nick knows what to do behind the wheel. “It’s not going to work. I’m out of patience and forgiveness.”
“But I swear I wouldn’t have hurt you,” Tony says in a pleading tone. “I’d never hurt you. Even if he told me to.”
“Wow,” I mutter to Beatrice with a frown, “you really do have a way with dangerously inappropriate men, don’t you?”
“If there’s one in a ten-mile radius, he’ll fall for me, or I’ll fall for him,” Beatrice agrees. “I think I might become a nun. Like the Buddhist kind, so I can walk around barefoot and commune with nature and the animals and do good works. I don’t want to be cooped up in a convent. And it’s been so long since I went to Mass, I’d probably make the sign of the cross backward.”
“I’d give myself a few weeks to think about it if I were you.” I twirl a hand in Tony’s direction. “Turn around, hands behind your back, big guy.”
He shoots a murderous glare in my direction. “I really don’t like you.”
“My feelings are really hurt by that,” I say dryly, keeping the gun leveled on his gut. “Grab some of the rope you used for Blaire, will you, Beatrice?”
“Yeah. Be right back.” She hurries toward the front of the boat as we pass the city of Kuta on our right and push on toward the airport.