As she ran to the second rope anchoring the yacht, she heard a droning sound overhead. Her heart leapt in excitement and, as she sliced at the rope, she scanned the sky. She couldn’t see it in all the nasty clouds closing in on the island, but it was definitely getting closer.

The first raindrops splattered onto her head just as the second rope fell away. A wave of water pushed against the yacht and it moved a few inches from the dock. She quickly climbed up the ladder and ran toward the front where she let herself into the engine room.

Glancing around in dismay, she realized she didn’t recognize anything. She’d only been on a handful of leisure boats in her life and definitely not anything this fancy or complex. But she had to try. She’d come too far just to lay down and die.

As soon as the thought left her head, she heard footsteps on the dock as someone rushed toward her. Seconds later, the roaring of a plane coming in for landing drowned out the footsteps.

Finally, she found a green button next to a set of keys that were sitting in the panel. She turned the key and when nothing happened, she hit the green button. The yacht’s engine fired to life and she frantically looked for the gas and a steering wheel so she could move it away from the dock.

She was too late though.

The door flew open behind her with enough force to slam into the wall.

She grabbed the kitchen knife and lifted it.

Bad guy number three walked toward her, a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

He looked like the other two, broad and muscular, wearing dark clothes with lots of pockets and weapons.

“I’m sorry I killed your friends!” she blurted because it was the only thing she could think of to say and she didn’t want him to be angry.

She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Like maybe he would kill her a little nicer if he wasn’t upset about the other guys.

He paused, then laughed. “Sweetheart, you did me a favour. I don’t have to split the prize three ways.”

She waved the knife threateningly. “I’m not your sweetheart.”

He laughed again, then eyed her in a way she didn’t like. “You’ve got some fight in you.” He sounded admiring. “You got past the others and made it this far. Maybe you don’t need to die right away. I like it when my prey fights back.”

“You make me sick,” she snarled, edging away from the controls, toward a door she hoped went below deck.

He stepped toward her, but he didn’t grab hold of his gun, which was strapped across his chest.