Stranded (Alaskan Courage)
By Dani Pettrey
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Prologue
Abby’s head swam, her vision narrowing as she stumbled into her cabin. What had they slipped her and when? Nausea rum- bled in her stomach, magnified by the surging waves created by the brewing storm. How could she have been so foolish?
They must have figured out who she was and that she was close to exposing them. They were trying to silence her— though if it came down to it, she preferred death to the al- ternative.
She lifted the receiver and dialed Darcy’s cabin.
Please be there. Darcy had said she’d wait in her room, but the phone kept ringing until it rolled over into voice mail. This wasn’t a message for voice mail. Not if they knew who she was. Not if it could lead them to Darcy. She had to find a better way, a safer way to leave a message only Darcy would understand.
She scribbled a quick note. Now . . . where to put it? She grabbed the Gideon Bible from the nightstand, slipped the message inside, set the Bible on her bed, and headed for the door. Only Darcy would know Abby would have no reason to
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(Unpublished manuscript—copyright protected Baker Publishing Group)
Stranded
have a Bible on her bed. Turning, she spotted her purse next to the nightstand, grabbed it, and placed it atop the Bible. Never hurt to have a little added protection. Darcy would still recognize the significance.
As she walked around her bed, the ship heaved and she stumbled. She needed help. Wobbling with each step, she managed to grasp the doorknob, the metal cool inside her clammy palm. Her breath quickened. Cracking the door, she peered into the corridor, thankful to find it empty. Stepping into the hall, she moved toward the elevator.
Shadows arched around the bend halfway down the hall, where another corridor intersected it. She halted. Her breath hitched.
A man spoke, his words angry and heated. A second man responded. Her heart seized in her chest. It was them. They were coming.
She turned heel, nearly losing her footing, and braced a supportive hand against the wall, hugging it as she moved as fast as she could in the opposite direction.
The deck door. She’d slip outside and track back toward the elevator, entering on the far end of the corridor. Perhaps the fresh air would help clear her muddled brain.
Sliding the exterior door open, she stepped out onto the deck. Brisk Alaskan air slapped her face but didn’t bring the clarity she’d hoped for. Heat still surged along her skin. Seriously, what had they slipped her?
Fighting to remain erect, she gripped the railing as the tu- multuous Alaskan waters crashed against the ship’s hull. If she could just make it to the aft door, she’d come out right by the elevator. A few decks up and she’d be surrounded by people.
She took a tentative step, then another. Only sixty feet to the door she needed.
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(Unpublished manuscript—copyright protected Baker Publishing Group)
Dani Pettrey
I can do this. For them, she’d fight.
“There.” His voice sent ice water through her veins. They’d found her.
Sweat drenching her skin, she broke into a run, but her legs tangled beneath her. She flailed forward, her chin collid- ing with the rough deck surface. Pain and heat shot through her—her hands and face tingling with the loss of skin.
The footsteps grew heavier, nearer.
She peered through the haze swarming her brain, strug- gling to focus on the door a mere thirty feet ahead. Pushing up on her bloodied hands, she shot to her feet and stumbled forward. The deck bobbed with the waves, her vision swirling.
Please. Tears pooled in her eyes. She grasped the door handle as an unforgiving hand clamped down hard on her shoulder, pinching her in a viselike grip. Pain radiated down her right side.
“You really thought you could outsmart us, Abby?” He wrenched her back. Grabbing her hair in his fist, he hauled her across the narrow deck.
She scrambled to grasp onto something . . . anything. She kicked as best as her limp legs would allow, fighting whatever was poisoning her system. She mustered a scream, but the ocean’s roar swallowed it.
He pressed her against the railing, her back arched over the thick metal beam, her feet dangling in the air. “What a waste.”
“Please. No.”
“It’s too late for that.” With a push, he forced her over- board.
Her feet flailed as the air rushed up to meet her. “Nooo!”
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(Unpublished manuscript—copyright protected Baker Publishing Group)