"Sara, I think it's time."

Neal wasn't sure just how long they had been sitting there on the floor, but he'd guess about an hour. Plenty of time for their kidnappers to settle in for the night – if that was, in fact, what they had intended to do.

Still, they didn't have much choice as far as he could see. Sticking around for another round of questioning in the morning seemed like the worst of their limited options. And while Sara might be formidable one-on-one with her baton, she didn't have that weapon now… and it was of little use against guns.

Sara lifted her head from Neal's shoulder and got to her feet. In the dim illumination from the running lights, he could see her face, and she looked frightened, but resolved.

He figured his own expression probably showed much the same.

Neal slid the window open just far enough to look out; Satisfied that there was no one in the immediate vicinity, he shoved the pane all the way to one side. "All right, you go first," he said, pulling the chair up close. "I'll hand the vests out to you. Then step toward the front of the boat far enough so that I can get out. There's just a narrow ledge here, but it's enough."

"Then we head to the back?"

"Right. Hopefully there's a raft in the bin on this side. If not, we'll have to see what that back deck looks like as far as light and guards go."

"And then over the side."

"Well, unless we find a cache of weapons and ammunition, it's our best option."

"I kind of like the idea of being able to storm the bridge."

"Well, let's see what we find."

He held out his hand and Sara took it, using him to balance as she climbed onto the chair. And then she put one leg out the window and pulled herself through. Neal handed out the vests and followed.

Once outside, it became apparent that the yacht was moving faster than it had seemed from their position inside, and water was being sprayed up. That made the footing on the narrow ledge even more treacherous than he had guessed. But by moving carefully, slowly, and holding onto the rope guide along the edge, they managed to make their way toward the back deck.

Neal stopped at the corner, holding out a hand as a silent signal to Sara to wait. Then he crouched down and slid around the corner. Fortunately, the outside lights had been turned off, though there was still a soft glow from inside the parlor where they had been questioned earlier. There were lights on the upper deck too, but most of their level was in shadow.

Forcing himself to stay still in the shadows, he took a deep breath, held it, and then focused all of his senses on the deck. But he didn't see any movement, or hear any sound of life. He shifted the life vest to his leading hand, and reached back for Sara with the other. When he felt her hand in his, he moved forward, still crouching low, keeping to those shadows as much as possible.

They stopped behind the emergency raft bin. He had to go mostly by feel, because no light reached behind there, but his fingers found just a regular latch, with a simple hasp that twisted to open. At first he lifted the lid just enough to put a hand in, trying to verify that something was in there. But when his fingers touched vinyl, that meant the lid would have to be opened farther to get the raft out.

Leaving Sara in the deepest shadows behind the bin, Neal moved toward the back, working his way just past the container. There was still no sign of anyone moving around, either on the deck or in the parlor beyond. And although the lights probably meant that there were people up and about on the upper level, none of them seemed to be focused on what might be happening below.

Well, yeah, because their hostages were securely bound in the cabin. And really, even if they got loose, who would be stupid enough to go into the water with no idea how many miles out to sea they might be…

His reconnaissance did turn up something else useful too – the yacht had a dive deck on the back. If that gate was something he could get open easily in the dark, that would be the best way to get off of the moving vessel. Simply sliding off the deck into the water would create much less noise than dropping the raft and two bodies over the higher sides of the yacht.

Holding up a hand to tell Sara not to move, Neal made his way to the back end. He reached for the latch on the gate – and it opened right away.

All right – they needed something to go their way.

He pulled the gate closed again and slid back along the edge of the deck to where Sara was waiting. "That back gate isn't locked," he said. "It leads to a dive deck, which is almost down at water level. That'll be the easiest, and quietest, way to get out of here."

"All right. And the rest of the plan?"

"You take the vests and head to the back. I'll get the raft and follow. When I get there, open the gate and we'll get on the dive deck. Put the vests on, and then slip into the water with the raft."

Sara nodded, and then she leaned forward, her lips finding his. "For luck," she whispered when she finally pulled back. And then she moved off, following the shadows toward the back.

Neal watched her for a moment, and then he reached up, opening the storage bin. He slid the raft out, lowered the lid carefully so it wouldn't make noise, and then started to follow. The raft was heavy, which was probably going to be a good thing out on the open ocean. It did, however, make moving quietly difficult, especially with the various ropes and chains that seemed to protrude frequently from the deck. But he hadn't survived so many hypothetical escapes without learning to be careful, and he made it to the back of the yacht without raising any alarm.

Sara had the gate open as soon as he got there, and together they slipped past it. She closed it again, careful not to let the latch create any noise. And then, as planned, they donned the life vests, pulling the straps tight.

Water churned by their feet, driven by the yacht's propellers. That could be dangerous, but it would also help mask any sound they might make.

Neal leaned close to Sara so that he could whisper into her ear. "Make sure to push out away from the boat," he said, pointing at the water.

She nodded, and it was time to go.

Neal slid the raft into the water, following it with one hand firmly gripping a rope on the side. He felt, more than saw, Sara moving right behind him.

And then they were in the water, bobbing in the boat's wake. Pushing the raft ahead of him, Neal stroked to one side, pushing through until he got into the calmer water. He could see Sara making her way toward him, and he held out a hand to her.

They bobbed in the water for a long moment, watching as the running lights of the yacht moved away.

"I don't hear anyone raising an alarm," Sara finally said.

"I'll take that as a very good sign."

"So now we inflate the raft?"

Neal shook his head, though by the pale moonlight, it may have been a wasted gesture. "Some of these rafts are designed with an emergency light that comes on automatically when it's inflated. I don't want to take the chance that this is one of them."

"So we just float for a while, and let the yacht get farther away."

"That's the plan." He pulled her hand up to one of the rope handles. "Just hang onto this. I don't want us to get separated."

He watched as Sara's hand curled around the rope, and even in the dim light he could see her smile. "Oh, you're not getting rid of me that easily, Caffrey."

"Good." He wrapped one hand around a handle himself, and laid the other over Sara's hand.

And they waited.

He was just contemplating how lucky they were that it was summer, which meant that hypothermia wasn't an immediate concern. The swells weren't bad either, offering just enough up and down to help conceal their position. Clouds had moved in, which mostly obscured the moonlight, giving them additional cover. And then he was wondering if enough time had passed so that they could chance inflating the raft…

Sara's sudden yelp of surprise brought him quickly back to the present. "Sara?"

"Neal, something very large just brushed by my legs."

He took a quick scan of the area. Now the cloud cover didn't seem quite so helpful.

Was that a dorsal fin just behind Sara?

"Right. Time to inflate the raft. Push away just a little."

He waited until Sara had backed away and then yanked on the inflation handle, releasing the compressed air stored in the canisters. With a loud hiss, the raft started to grow.

The fin seemed to move closer.

Sharks didn't usually feed at night – but maybe this one hadn't seen the same Discovery Channel special.

A couple of strong strokes brought him next to Sara, and then he pulled her back using the raft as a barrier between them and the fin. His hand brushed against the survival knife tethered to the side and he let go of Sara's hand to release it from the sheath.

And now if he could just get the theme song from 'Jaws' out of his head…

He tried to get the dismal image of attempting to fend off a shark with a knife, and in the dark no less, out of his head too.

The raft had inflated and Sara had already found the rope rungs that hung down to enable boarding. He watched as she clambered into the raft, pushing aside the partially raised canopy. The fin had disappeared, and he tried not to imagine a sleek torpedo of a fish shooting up from underneath him…

Definitely too many viewings of 'Air Jaws' during Shark Week.

Tossing the knife into the bottom of the raft, Neal grabbed onto the ropes and pulled himself inside, falling with an extremely ungraceful flop next to Sara.

For a long moment they simply lay there, too exhausted to do anything else. But then Sara rolled toward him, hand on his chest. "Was that really a fucking shark?"

"Might have been."

"Might?"

He managed a weak grin. "I'm not going back in the water to find out."

He could hear the smile in Sara's voice, even if he couldn't see it on her face. "I guess that's fair enough."

They finally untangled, pushing up to a seated position. They managed to get the canopy locked into place, and then Neal pulled out the emergency supply kit. With the top raised he couldn't see much, but his fingers found a flashlight and he clicked it on. Laying the other items out between them, he found another waterproof flashlight, tightly wrapped spare batteries, a first aid kit, binoculars, duct tape, a repair kit, two sets of fishing gear, a couple of metal cups, a desalinization kit, another knife, two silvery space blankets, four hand flares, an emergency beacon, and some seasickness bags.

Those might come in handy.

The emergency kit was seated on top of two sets of paddles, should they decide to try rowing. Through the vinyl of the canopy he could see a strobe light flashing, and he gave some thought to trying to disable it. The light could draw their kidnappers to them, when the escape was detected. But the light might also be their only chance of rescue.

Because what he also discovered, though he didn't share the news with Sara, was that this raft was intended for use in coastal waters, where help wouldn't be far off. It wasn't designed for the open ocean, where they could only guess how many miles out they were.

But it was all they had, and it gave them a chance.

There was a good deal of commotion on the yacht in the wee hours of the morning. The prisoners had escaped, apparently overboard in the missing life raft. After a good deal of yelling and finger-pointing, the craft reversed its course, with one man stationed up front on the running bridge, a powerful searchlight in hand. Someone else was tasked with watching the recreational-grade radar. And the captain carefully retraced the yacht's course, heading west.

But the currents in the Atlantic don't run east and west. The Gulf Stream drives the current in a curving northeasterly pattern. The raft the men on the yacht were seeking was already well north of the original path.