Page 62 of Part of Your World

Not helpful, Lord.

Or was it?

Zane's pulse leapt as he dropped to the ground and scooped up a double handful of sand. Then just as the two men rolled toward him, he flung the sand into both their faces. They flinched and sputtered. Zane pounced. He kicked the smuggler in the head and snatched the pistol from the two men's loosened grips. The smuggler cursed and flailed, but Zane dodged easily.

The sand wouldn't blind him for long, though. So as the man struggled to his feet, Zane circled behind him and felled him with a boot to the back of his knee. He cried out as he tumbled forward, and Zane shoved his shoulders, ensuring he sprawled face-first in the sand. Zane quickly straddled him and kept him pinned with a knee to his back.

"Eddie! I need a binding."

His driver hurried over, a strip of leather in his hand that looked like one of the horse's lead lines. Together, they wrestled the smuggler's hands behind his back and secured his wrists with a wrap job to rival any sailor's rigging.

"Water!" His father's cry brought Zane's head around. "My eyes are burning."

Grandpa Clem reached him before Zane could. "Here, son. Let me." He brushed away Horace's sand-covered hands that were likely making things worse, and gently rubbed the grains from his face with a handkerchief. "The tears God gave you will wash the sand away in a minute."

Zane left the two bound smugglers in Eddie's care and hobbled over to where his father crouched, wishing there was something he could do.

A shadowy movement to his right brought his head around, just in time to see Octavia Underhill dart close enough to grab something out of the sand.

The journal.

"Hey!" Zane shot to his feet.

Octavia bolted. But sand dunes weren't made for older women in long, fashionable skirts and impractical shoes. She'd barely run ten yards toward her carriage before her ankle twisted and she went down. Zane caught up to her with ease.

Taking hold of her elbow, he hoisted her to her feet.

"Let go of me, you fiend!"

He tightened his grip. "Not a chance. You have a date with the police."

Her white hair had come loose from its pins during her mad dash around the dunes, and it hung about her face in wild disarray. Her hard eyes glittered as she jutted her chin. "You pathetic whelp. You have nothing on me. By the time I get done with the police, they'll be arresting your father and giving me a medal."

"Not after they see this." Father limped over to them holding up the other journal. He turned it toward her and fanned the pages. Pages filled with ink. He grinned. "You grabbed the decoy, Octavia. I'll enjoy roasting you on your own spit. Extortion. Kidnapping. Attempted murder."

She shot daggers at him. "The only thing I'm guilty of is running a successful business. You extorted me, stole from me, and fabricated false charges against me."

Zane's jaw clenched. "They aren't false, and you know it. You abducted a ten-year-old boy and used him as a pawn to get what you wanted."

"I would never harm a child. The very idea is absurd."

Sickened by her callous deceit and self-serving twisting of the truth, Zane leaned his face close to hers and jabbed some untwisted words her way. "You brought us out here. You hired thugs to intimidate and likely kill us."

"I hired protection, nothing more sinister than that."

"You signaled the boat," Zane countered. "Everything was on your orders."

"That's preposterous! You have no proof of any of these outlandish claims!"

"That's where you're wrong." Zane smiled. "We have the boy." Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Did you not wonder why Muriel sent me to hand over the journal?" Octavia swallowed, her gaze darting from Zane to his father and back again. "She's a swimmer. A world-class swimmer. One who could reach a boat anchored offshore with no one ever noticing. By now, she's rescued her nephew and is rendezvousing with her father. We've got proof, Mrs. Underhill. Enough to keep you locked up for years."

"That's . . . that's impossible." She tossed her hair back as if to show her unconcern, but her face glowed pale in the twilight.

"Time will tell." Zane released his hold on her and turned his face toward the sea, praying his bold words proved true.

"Where'd they go? Do you see 'em?"

"They went over the port side."