So when the nearest man paused to aim his strike, Rook spun. The thrust blade passed by his abdomen and beneath his arm. Rook took the attackers forearm, pulled him closer, wrapped his free hand around the man’s neck, and hurled him overboard.

The second man roared with anger and charged. Though he was probably a good fighter in his day, the man was slow and couldn’t match Rook’s reach. Rook’s fist slammed head on into the man’s nose. The man stumbled back, ignoring the gouts of blood pouring from his ruined face, and drew a pistol.

But once again, Rook was too quick. He kicked the weapon from the man’s hand and elbowed him in the chest. The man stumbled back and landed against the rail. Wasting no time, Rook took the man by his feet and flipped him, ass over teakettle, into the freezing arctic waters.

A third set of footsteps approached from behind. Rook turned.

Dashkov flicked his lighter and held it out to Rook.

“I don’t smoke,” Rook said, handing the pack of cigarettes to the man.

Rook could read the man’s questioning glance and pointed to the pack. Dashkov looked at the cigarettes and found a small mirror fragment taped to it. When Rook held the pack up, he’d got a peek at both men.

Dashkov shook his head with a laugh. “What took you so long?”

“You don’t mind?”

“I’m not a bad man, Stanislav.” He smiled. “And they paid up front.”

“And if someone comes looking for them?”

“I’ll tell the truth, that I dropped them off and haven’t seen them since.”

Both men laughed at this.

“I think their plan was to disappear anyway,” Dashkov said. “Along with the girl.”

“How long until we reach our stop?”

“Two hours.”

Rook smiled and headed for the cabin door. “I’ll go cut her loose and give her the good news.”

*   *   *

ROOK STOOD AT the rail once again, the newly freed woman by his side. She had wavy black hair cut to her shoulders. Her body was feminine and in great shape. Her dark brown eyes shown with intelligence and despite the wounds inflicted to her face, she was still quite striking, not to mention familiar. But he couldn’t place what was familiar about her and didn’t dwell on it.

She had offered a quiet “Thank you” after being freed, but hadn’t said a word since. When she saw land ahead, she turned to Rook and again said, “Thank you.”

“Do you need any help once we land?” Rook asked.

For a moment he thought she wouldn’t reply, but then she spoke. “I’ll be fine.”

She spoke with a confidence that convinced Rook she would be. “Sorry,” he said.

She turned to him, confused. “For what?”

“Not freeing you sooner.”

She shrugged. “These things happen.”