Donna Langston knew she was in trouble immediately upon waking. The awful lingering miasma of the chloroform used to render her unconscious was the first clue, the years she’d spent investigating criminals as an amateur detective giving her plenty of first-hand experience with the drug, and she instantly recognized the feeling of cotton wool packed into her brain upon coming too. The sensation of cold metal at her wrists was also an important clue, and the blonde looked up to discover she’d been handcuffed and suspended from a pipe that ran above her head, sneaker-clad feet dangling helplessly above the rusted-out ship’s deck. The foul taste of the pink ball gag filling her mouth was a further indication that her most recent bout of snooping had likewise gone horribly wrong.

Then, of course, there was the utterly venomous look Isabel was giving her at the other end of the pipe, her best friend and fellow would-be investigator likewise bound and gagged. It was the sort of glare she’d seen the Hispanic beauty offer more than once, usually whenever they fell into the clutches of whatever bad guy they were investigating at the time, a situation that had occurred fairly frequently. Heart sinking in dismay, Donna glanced around the dingy engine room for any tools they might use to escape, and finding nothing.

Well, aside from the tool who’d captured them in the first place, of course. “Glad you could join me, ladies,” Alan Hernandez, slumlord, drug smugglers, and all-round prick, mocked the two snoops, a shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome features. “Sorry I can’t stay long. I got a private plane with my name on it, and a safehouse somewhere in the South Pacific to lay low from the Feds while my lawyers bury everything you two have ever dug up on me. But where are my manners? Welcome aboard the Buried Treasure. It’s not much, I know. I bought her from some Somali pirates, and it’s a daily battle to keep her from sinking, she’s so rusted and worn-out. Not the sort of place for a pair of young ladies to stuck.”

“Mmmmpgggh!” the pair of snoops screamed into their gags, realizing what he intended.

“Farewell, ladies! This time tomorrow, I’ll be sipping drinks on a beach, and you’ll have sunk to the bottom of the ocean. It’s been a pleasure!”

Veritably skipping, Alan departed the engine room, heavy metal door slamming behind him, and Donna began to thrash against her restraints, Isabel’s eyes burning a hole right through her. Of all their misadventures and perils they’d been through together, they’d definitely sunk to a new low here…