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spare key. How had these two stolen Madre’s key?
    The pantless man disregarded Chase’s directive, and clutched the knife.
    Chase’s stomach tightened. Did he have to shoot one of them? His pulse quickened, but he managed a confident calmness.
    What a time to realize he hadn’t checked to see if the gun was loaded. “Okay, don’t drop the knife. That’s fine with me. On the count of three, I blow his brains out. One … two … ”
    His hostage quivered. “Shit! Do what he says and get rid of the damn knife!”
    Pantless, his expression a defeated smirk, tossed the knife. It landed on the floor by Chase’s feet. He kicked it to the corner. The man reached for his pants.
    “Stay where you are!” Chase shouted. The idiot might very well have another weapon in his pocket.
    Pantless jerked to abrupt attention. His pants remained bunched at his ankles.
    “Come on, Chase,” his detainee groaned. “She may come off like a cool bitch. You gotta admit they’re the hot ones. You’re father said it was okay as long as we got the job done.”
    Chase tensed where he stood. His father? What did his father have to do with a woman being assaulted?
    He studied the individual who stood before him and relished a brief twinge of satisfaction. The bastard was scared. Good. After terrifying this woman, Chase hoped the bastard crapped his pants.
    His breathing nearly stopped. Chase recognized the man he held at gunpoint. Ron Caldwell, his father’s dependable Leisure Limo driver. What the hell?
    He took a moment to regain his wits. “My father picked you.”
    “H-he said a-as long as the job g-got done,” Ron stammered.
    Job? What job? Chase shook off the question as rambled thoughts gave way to a strategy.
    He took a deep breath. “Well, Caldwell, he didn’t realize you’re an ass.” Chase took a gamble, easing the gun, and stepping back. “It’s lucky I came to check. Your car’s recognizable in the parking lot. The cabin light is blazing, and the guard makes rounds in fifteen minutes.” That particular lie sounded believable. “This job should be finished. What’s the matter? Can’t get it up?”
    Ron’s features hardened. “I got no problem in that department.”
    Chase let his arm relax, but gripped the gun, ready if necessary. “So what’s the problem?”
    “We chloroformed her,” Ron said. “It took forever for her to come around. The bitch was faking it.”
    Thank God, Chase thought. The extra time saved this woman.
    “Oh, in other words, you’re not impotent, merely stupid,” Chase chuckled. His demeanor toughened. “I expected to find you assholes cleaning up.” He paused. “I hate a messy boat.”
    He had to get these two off the boat. That was the priority. Get them off the boat. Get this woman to safety.
    “I’ll take over,” Chase said. “Get lost, the both of you.”
    “Hey, you, wait a minute,” Pantless said with a snort. “We went through a lot of trouble gettin’ this bitch, and we ain’t gettin’ a piece of her?”
    “Yeah, Chase.” A muscle in Ron’s cheek twitched. “We got no problem sharing her.”
    The bile in Chase’s throat wrangled with the words in his mouth. “You’ve known me a long time, Ron. Do I seem like a guy who shares?” He managed some amusement in his voice. “Since I was forced to make this trip, I get her to myself. Now beat it.”
    Pantless gaped at Chase. “What about our money? Your father said he’d take care of payin’ us. You tellin’ me we ain’t gettin’ paid?”
    Payment? His father? Even the implication made Chase’s blood run cold, but he retained his composure. “You want to get paid?”
    “You bet.” Fists clenched, Pantless took a step toward Chase. “Especially if I ain’t gettin’ between her legs. I was lookin’ forward to a good piece. Of cash. And her.”
    With his eyes focused on Pantless, Chase pointed the gun back at Ron. “What did I say? You move, he gets the bullet.”
    Ron cringed. Pantless